The Sun of Winter
by FlameAngel24
Summary: As a maiden and healer of Lothlorien, Coruwen never expected to diverge from the path set before her. However, her life changes when she begins studying under Lord Elrond in Imladris. Thereafter, she finds herself curious about the world around her and that of a Company destined for Erebor. Thorin/OFC
1. Chapter 1

**The Sun of Winter **

_Love is like fire. Wounds of fire are hard; harder still are those of love. –Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen_

_~Chapter 1~_

_Aiwë_

Golden leaves waved against a coral pink sky. Fragmented gold light, soft and pale, painted itself across the light grey bole of a tree that hefted a platform on its shoulders. White walls began to darken as the indigo fingers of night began to arise. Upon a dais sat long cots, empty, with a desk sitting at the base of the low steps. Alone in the room stood a woman. Long, slender fingers wound themselves into strips of cream linen that rested in a basket of wicker. Many slipped and tumbled into heaps on the floor of a flet, high above the ground. With a cheery song, a tiny robin landed on the handle of the basket and gazed up at the hands that twirled the linens. When the blue gaze of the woman landed on the robin, it started with a squeak and flew off.

"How funny, robins do not appear to like _my_ robin," A man garbed in thunder head grey and white commented dryly from a rounded archway. "Then again, my robin is different."

"Yes, one could say that…" The woman laughed, rolling the last linen and placing it back into the basket. She turned on the man and caught the soft, gold light in his silver hair and shadow his sharp features. He flashed her a smile before approaching and wrapping an arm around her small shoulders. She stared up at him and then smiled down at the floor. "Let me return this to the Chief Healer and then we can depart."

Rumil's silver hair flicked into her side vision and his hand gripped her shoulder tighter. Within her chest, tightness began to form. She could not explain it, or where it came from, or even how it started. She stepped free of his grip, and without a second glance, she started down the hall at a swift pace. Upon finding the Chief Healer, she returned the linens and watched the elleth stalk off to attend to others in the long arching corridors. With a turn, she bumped into Rumil's grey cloaked chest in a thud.

"Coruwen…" Rumil's voice came to her ear, flat and serious. His hands took her shoulders to peel her away from him. Coruwen glanced up at him, the tightness in her chest beginning to burn. He pursed his lips in thought, hands dropping to his sides. "Haldir heard from Lady Arwen that you are to be leaving with her in the coming days."

Her brows furrowed together in thought. Why would she leave Lothlórien? She gnawed at the inside of her cheek. The Chief Healer was running short of things to teach her, this she knew, and perhaps it was time for her to learn other forms of medicine. For many years, she had been under the tutelage of the healers in Lothlórien and learned much from them. The spark of a memory kindled in her mind, one of when she had cut her fingers on dozens of needles in practice.

With a shudder, Coruwen said, "I will look like I lost a battle with a long knife once again."

Rumil let out a merry laugh, and looped arms with her. "You shall do fine, sweet niece of mine. After all, it could not be worse than you learning to use a bow."

"Oh, it could be… I may have calluses upon my fingers like many of you, but none of you know the potential of needles." The two of them fell silent for a few moments; the only sound the sounds of their boots clicking against the floorboards. With a hum, she murmured, "Tell me, does Ada approve of this?"

He smirked with a scoff, "What do you think?"

Coruwen sighed, "He must not think highly of it."

"No, no he does not..."

"Will Lady Arwen convince him otherwise?"

Rumil chuckled, "If you desire to go, sweet niece. Then how could your father deny you?"

"Oh, in many, many ways."

He patted her hand softly and helped her down from the winding steps of the healers' flet. "Coruwen, Haldir knows he cannot keep you here forever." She threatened to open her mouth, but stopped short when his hands touched her lips in silence. "Eventually, all birds must fly."

"Even robins?" She placed her hands on her hips and smirked. Rumil threw his head back in laughter and then gathered her in his arms.

"Especially, robins."

He released her and then started off once again. Darkness fell in the blink of an eye and breath of brisk wind. Autumn had begun to settle into the world, and even her people had begun to see the change of seasons. As the leaves of the great trees overhead changed their golden tops and the winds bit with a bite colder than the grave, the elves of Lothlórien changed as well. Coruwen saw her uncle's cloaks change in thickness as well as their color. Once, Rumil's cloak had not climbed high enough to reach his jaw and it had not been the color of angered thunderclouds. And then a sudden burst of wind blew past her skirts, sending her closer to Rumil for warmth. Her hands clawed for his arm and found that he was far warmer than she.

"There is a reason robins are not winter birds," Rumil commented before he came to a stop. She halted as well, looking up at him curiously as he unfastened the clasp at his throat. The thick cloak slid from his shoulders and stiffened abruptly. As he fastened the cloak around her, he muttered, "Though it seems hard to believe that it is not winter yet."

"Yes… Autumn will be rather bitter this year," Coruwen replied quietly.

Rumil stood straight once more and then started off again in the direction of the edges of Caras Galadhon. The two were quiet until they came upon two ellyn speaking before the winding steps of a flet. Within her chest, Coruwen's heart leapt in joy. Out of the silver hair and grey cloth, she spied her father – fair and statuesque. At his shoulder was a brooch that held up a grey sash that crossed over his chest before it flowed into the same cloak that Rumil had given her. Haldir gave her a sideways glance before it settled back on the Chief Marchwarden, Gilion. Gilion gave Haldir a swift bow and slinked off, his hands fumbling to settle his hood back over his head.

Rumil smiled crookedly. "I have brought our little bird home, brother."

Haldir turned and he wore no expression upon his face. He always had that way – slight of expression and silent – ever since Coruwen remembered. Though slowly, Haldir smiled as he approached her to take her hand in his. A brief burst of emotion took her and she embraced him. For a weeks' time he had been gone, keeping the borders of their land safe from harm, and she missed him. Her father chuckled lightly and stroked her back.

"It is good to see my nightingale once again," Haldir whispered, releasing her. His eyes searched her, their color a stormy blue that differed from the bright silver of his hair and grey of his garb. "How have you fared, sweet one?"

"Well… I have been well, Ada - but what about you? Word has not reached me for nearly a month," Coruwen stressed, her voice cracking lightly with worry. Behind her Rumil laughed brightly, but Haldir paid him no mind, for his smile faded.

With a shake of his head, Haldir began, "I have fared better, my daughter. Though seeing you," He touched a wavy lock of her hair as if presenting it to her. Their hair color was quite different; Coruwen's hair was the color of the sun and Haldir's silver. He twirled it once and let it rest back on her shoulder, saying, "Seeing you brings me great joy, as it always has."

Her tongue felt like lead in her mouth suddenly as her heart swelled in emotion. There were days she would spend with either of her uncles or in a fit of worry alone without anything to quell the drowning fear. There were rumors, whispers throughout Lothlórien of the ellith that would lose their loved ones to the darker forces that crawled down from the hills every once in a while. She suppressed a shudder as her father and uncle turned their backs on her and started up the walkway. As she followed them, thoughts began to churn in her mind like the roiling sea. There were thoughts of her family that lingered in her mind, ones that took the shape of the rumors that floated in the wood. They were impossible to believe, yet what she had seen in the healing houses told her different! Her eyes screwed themselves shut in an instant with her fingers digging into her uncle's cloak.

"Nightingale?" Haldir's voice drew her out of her worrisome thoughts. Her eyes peeled open to gaze up at her father, who had stopped at the base of the winding stairwell with a hand rested up against the smoky grey wood. His stare was hard. "Does something trouble you?"

"No," Her nerves began steel as she spoke. "I was merely thinking."

Haldir's gaze swiveled to Rumil as the latter moved to stand beside him, lantern in hand. The soft light lessened the sternness in her father's features by only a hair, but it did not take the serious curiosity from his eyes. He hummed and turned on his heel, stalked into the flet and left Coruwen to stare up at Rumil shyly.

"May I ask what you were thinking of, robin?" Rumil asked. As he moved toward her, he shifted the iron lantern in his hands to place it on one of her white knuckled hands. She was shaking; something she had barely noticed until Rumil's hand rested on top of hers. Shame washed swallowed her as she hung her head. "Coruwen…?"

"It is nothing, Uncle," She took his hand in both of hers, giving him a soft smile. "I have always thought too much."

"That I cannot deny," His laugh was infectious and she laughed with him for a moment – albeit brief – before following her father into the flet.

~.~.~

Haldir had always known that Rumil eavesdropped. Perhaps he was more troubled than his daughter in this one regard, and did not wish for anyone – not even Rumil or Orophin – to know about it. But now his little brother knew and had told Coruwen. Anger rushed through him – how could he let himself be so ignorant to his own brother's musings? Now, it seemed, that Coruwen desired to take up the request he had heard the other day. A soft thump drew his gaze up to his daughter, who had taken up her bow to practice archery.

Haldir sat far from Coruwen's hearing and watched her intently, but said nothing. He propped his chin on the heel of his hand, watching her cloak sway as she drew another arrow back to her cheek. In the sunlight, Coruwen's hair was shining gold and tumbled down the back of the cloak his brother had been kind enough to lend to her several days ago. She moved to the side, and the ivory cloth of her dress twisted with her. She whirled, fingers snagging another arrow with fox-like speed so that the delicate point of the arrow fell on a raised, knotted root.

He smiled when her arrow met its mark in the root. He remembered her as a child, trying to hold up the long bow of the Galadhrim. However, such moments were short-lived whenever she saw a wily red fox or a tiny chickadee. Haldir inwardly groaned; she was a difficult child when it came to learning to use a bow, but when she learned the history of this world, medicine, or sewing – she focused on the endeavor. Passing a hand over his face, he made to stand, but was stopped by a hand that gripped his wrist. His eyes snapped down to the hand to find it was Rumil who held him still.

"Rumil," Haldir said in relief. His brother's grip fell as he came to sit beside him on the log. In his brother's eyes, he saw the glint of mischief. A frown tugged at his lips. "What is it?"

Rumil smirked, "You should let her follow Lady Arwen to Imladris."

It seemed in that moment that Haldir's fear took shape. A lump formed in his throat, but did not stop the iron from staying in his voice. "I cannot allow that."

"And why not?" Rumil's gaze bored into his own. He noted his brother's eyes – their mother's eyes – and the firm, unshakeable belief within. "She is hardly an elfling anymore! She _needs_ this, Haldir. She needs to be free; she needs to see other places other than Lothlórien."

"Rumil, I have discussed this with you," He did not know what flew faster; his words or his brother's hand. His younger brother was known for his quick temper, but Haldir never had been on the receiving end of his blows. Until now. His hand rested on his aching jaw and he refrained from cursing. "What good would come from sending her away?"

Rumil's expression did not change. "You cannot protect her forever. Imladris is a safe haven, and she will meet new people." Rumil's voice shook, "And perhaps, she will meet a lord who will love her. But she will never get that chance if you keep her caged!"

_Caged_, the word rang through him like a bell. He had always named Coruwen after birds, a symbol of freedom, yet here he stood keeping her from that freedom. His hand rubbed the welt on his jaw and drew himself up. Rumil glowered up at him, daring to strike him again should anything foolish leave his lips.

"You are right, little brother," Haldir admitted through his hand. Confidence spread in his brother's features like wildfire. "When does the Lady Arwen depart?"

"At the end of this week…" Rumil cocked his head to the side. "May I ask why?"

Haldir observed his daughter once again as she loosed another arrow on an imaginary foe, gold hair flying about her like tongues of fire. Through the pain that stung his jaw, he smiled. "Send her to Lady Arwen… Let us see if _we_ can find her a parting gift…"

~.~.~

The houses of healing were busy the following day. Marchwardens, hunters, and the occasional ranger were seen this day, filling the houses with voices that could have misinterpreted as war clamor. The wardens that returned from the borders were injured by an ambush of goblins that had descended down from the Misty Mountains. Arrowheads of crude steel and unrefined handiwork were pulled from the limbs of the wardens and there were a few that had passed on as well.

Coruwen observed a wound made by a goblin throwing knife, the root of the problem lying on the table. The knife had imbedded itself in the ellon's shin and left a gaping wound in its wake.

"Will it need to be stitched, lady healer?" The ellon warden asked above her. Coruwen stood and gave him a slow nod. The silver haired warden sighed, "Another one – how amusing…"

She turned and fetched a needle and stitching thread along with numbing herbs that had been crushed to make a poultice. Kneeling, she began to rub the poultice onto the wound and saw the man flinch.

"I would ask you not to move, but seeing as that is fairly unlikely…" Coruwen began but let her words fade. "This is not your first wound?"

"On my shin, no. My lady wife would have my head if she knew about this," The warden chuckled dryly and then grimaced. "The orcs came out of nowhere."

"My uncle tells me it was an ambush. The orcs and goblins seem to be growing braver every day," Coruwen replied, finishing off the last stitch and then grabbed a roll of linen to cover the wound. "The world begins to darken, I am afraid to admit."

"Aye, sadly…" He rolled down the leg of his trouser before giving her a smile. "Thank you, Lady Healer."

She returned the smile. "It was a pleasure helping you, kinsman."

She stood and offered a hand to the warden, but he shook his head and stood on his own. She adjusted her skirts nervously after the warden left, finding her stomach to be knotting tightly. Her fingers wound themselves into her sleeves in worry.

"Pardon me," Came a soft voice from behind her. Coruwen's eyes snapped up to a woman dress in periwinkle blue and shimmering white with long, soft waves falling down her back. Coruwen oddly recognized her, but could not place where she had seen this elleth. "Would you be Lady Coruwen?"

Coruwen nodded, "I am. And who might you be, my lady?"

The elleth smiled and entered the room, the beads on the white fabric flickering like tiny stars. The closer the elleth came, more of her features became clear. Her eyes were grey, her features fair and bearing resemblance to Lady Galadriel. Her heart pumped ice into her blood and a lump formed in her throat.

"I am Arwen, daughter of Elrond. I have been looking for you, Coruwen," Arwen said with a smile.

Within, Coruwen's mind fretted and paced, yet she could not do so before the lady Undomiel. Her hands trembled and she forced them to knit together, yet still they shook like leaves in a forceful wind. Gently, Arwen laid her hands over Coruwen's and laughed quietly.

"I have a request," Arwen began and Coruwen met the lady's grey eyes. "I would ask you to follow me to Imladris and study with me under my Adar. I have spoken with your father as well as the Chief Healer of these houses and learned that your studies need to be turned… elsewhere."

Coruwen let out a nervous, airy laugh, "Yes, your sources are correct, my lady."

Arwen took her hands from Coruwen's and folded them behind her back. From her noble air, Coruwen felt a strange trill of confidence ring through her. Setting her shoulders, she smiled.

"Then would you follow me to Imladris in the coming days?" Arwen asked.

"If your Adar would have me."

Arwen laughed and nodded. Her laughter was bright and merry, a bell that sang on the highest peak. When she laughed along with her, Coruwen found that the two had similar laughs. And within herself, she frowned in thought and in wonder.

"My brothers and Lord Glorfindel will greatly enjoy your company, Coruwen," Arwen started to leave, and then cast a smile back at her. "We leave early on the morrow, my friend. I suggest you get some rest."

"O-Of course, Lady Arwen," Her voice became shy and small. If she let her emotions show on the outside, she would have been laughing and louder than the two had before. Before she left, Arwen scolded her about the usage of _Lady _around her, since they were to be studying together. She had nodded and waved farewell to Arwen before she smiled to herself. There was a feeling, though very small, within her that whispered of the coming days and how she would not sleep this night.

* * *

_A/N: Hello everyone, been a long time since you saw anything updated here, huh? This story was once called A Marchwarden's Daughter, but I'm sure many of you knew that. I decided when the newest Hobbit film came out, and through writing Dragon Queen, that this story needed to be changed and re-written to fit Coruwen better. The premise of the story remains the same, but certain things will be more fluent... _

_There are some rules I want to apply here: _

_-Flaming or negative comments are not tolerated in any fashion. _

_-I gladly take constructive criticism, but if you deem it too harsh, please send me a PM. _

_-And please enjoy the story _

_If you want to follow me on Tumblr and get the inside scoop on I'm doing, or want to ask questions, then look me up! And as always, if you enjoyed this, please leave me a review, favorite, follow, and share with friends! _

_Until Next time -Angel _


	2. Chapter 2

_~Chapter 2~_

_Alcarinqua_

Coruwen stared at her knapsack; the dark leather shining dully in the freckled sunlight. The night before she had packed for this day and only brought with her a few things such as her bow and needlework. Her fingers turned the loose sleeves of her lavender dress as worry began to churn in her stomach. Her ears did not hear any noises around her, or the trees that whispered above her. No, her ears only heard the thud of her heart against her ribcage. A soft knock on her door started her with a gasp.

"Come in," Coruwen answered when the knock came again. The door opened mutely and her father stepped in. Her gaze thinned on him; his face was tired, his eyes lacking their typical, stern glint. Her skirts swished after her when she approached him to rest a hand on his cheek. When she gazed up at him, he shut his eyes. Her voice came as a gentle whisper, "Ada, are you feeling all right?"

Haldir opened his eyes and smiled, "Yes, sweetling. I am fine – I simply am tired." His hand rested over hers, and his palm was warm. With her hand in his, he removed it from his face and cradled it in both of his hands. "Are you ready to depart?"

Despite the worry that sickened her, she nodded. Haldir hesitated and Coruwen watched him, observing. His eyes watched their hands, and so she turned her gaze on them as well. His fingers were slightly thicker than hers, and his skin possessed darker undertones. She had read about her father's people, the Sindar. A few times, she had read about the Noldorin – the people of Lady Galadriel – and compared her features to the old stories. Haldir's hands dropped hers and she was startled out of her thoughts. He came to take her in his arms, his embrace tight as if she were to be swept under by a torrent. The breath that occupied her lungs was swept free, coming out in a breathy sigh.

"I know this will be good for you, nightingale. However…" His voice faltered and his body became tense under her touch. "I cannot deny the protectiveness I have over you."

She ran her fingers through his silver hair, smiling. "I know... I have always known." Coruwen pulled away and saw the grief in his features to be grave like a shadow. Whispering his name, she cupped his face in her hands. "Ever since I was knee high to you, I have known that. But I will be safe in Imladris. In truth, there is not a safer place."

Haldir nodded before sighing heavily. He moved out of her hands to take up her knapsack. "Come, nightingale. Your uncles and I have something for you."

A crease of curiosity came to her brow, but she trailed after her father like a lost pup. His gait was swift, hurried and urgent, forcing her to pick up the hem of her skirts to follow him out of the flet to the forest floor. Before her was an odd sight – both of her uncles stood in front of her. Orophin smiled at her and Rumil struggled to keep a hold of the reins of a snorting horse.

"Adar," Coruwen began when she saw the horse. Its elegant blonde head swung with white puffs of mist escaping its nostrils. "What-?"

"His name is Faenaur," Haldir answered, cutting her off. He approached the horse without a single shred of hesitation, and began to whisper to the horse in their tongue of their people. Steadily, the horse's wildness ceased and he nudged her father's outstretched hand. "And he is a gift from us to you."

The stallion's brown eyes watched – fierce and wild – as she approached her father's side. Fear made her movements less than graceful as she peered over at Faenaur. He snorted in anxiety again, sending her backwards into Rumil's chest. Haldir smirked and ran a hand across the stallion's forelock. Underneath her father's hand was a blaze of white that matched his long, unruly mane.

"You are giving me a _wild_ stallion?" Coruwen asked in disbelief. She eyed her father curiously, her tone far cooler than she had anticipated. She turned her cool gaze on her youngest uncle and then to her father. "Have the three of you lost your minds?"

"He is a warhorse, nightingale," Haldir began, his hands toying with Faenaur's mane absentmindedly. "And he did not gain the name _Radiant Flame_, for simply being white and gold."

"And I can attest to that reasoning," Rumil grumbled above her. She glanced down at his hand, and saw that a nasty red mark bloomed lay there. Hesitation and fear filled her, but she steeled her nerves and approached Faenaur. Behind her, she heard Rumil whisper, "Perhaps giving her Faenaur is not the best idea, Haldir."

"If he likes her then we will have nothing to fear, brother," Haldir's voice replied in assurance. Why did he sound terribly happy about this? Their voices blurred into muffled whispers.

She watched the horse before her, the stallion's heavy feet stomping the ground as she closed the space between them. The horse kept his head low, and the wind tickled his mane. He was a beautiful creature, she noted as she outstretched a hand to Faenaur. Beneath her boot, a twig snapped and the stallion's head snapped up, making her flinch. His fiery eyes watched her in turn now, and he tossed his head with a quiet whinny in an almost arrogant manner. Coruwen thought that he was nearly as nervous as she, if not more in this moment.

"Easy, proud fire, easy," Coruwen cooed as her hand pressed against his velvety pink snout. The horse snorted and she ran her hand down his neck, feeling heat envelope her hand in a cocoon of warmth. Though as she neared his shoulder, his muscles became tight like cords and she pulled her hand back to his neck. With trembling hands, she pressed them against his cheek. "I know you do not trust me… And to be honest," She laughed quietly, "I do not trust you, but my family thinks otherwise."

"We can hear you," Rumil drawled over her whispering. She turned a sharp glare on him and he shrank back. "And if it means anything, horses do not understand us."

"The horse master would have your head, little brother," Orophin scolded and prodded Rumil with the end of his bow. Coruwen giggled as Rumil hissed at Orophin, the hiss mimicking a cat in great likeness. "Horses are intelligent, graceful creatures. I am under the firm belief that they understand us."

"Oh yes, only because you were once their kind," Came Rumil's jape, and Coruwen stifled a giggle. Orophin whirled on his brother, his hand raised about to smack his brother upside the head, and Rumil flinched – shying away. "I do not warrant a smack for that?"

Orophin tucked his hands into the confines of his cloak, "Not yet."

"No warning?"

Coruwen saw her father smile, "You know the rules, Rumil." She turned her gaze on Faenaur's swiveling ears, and stood on tip toes to touch one. But just as her fingers graced the plush, erect ears of the horse, her father's hand pressed against her upper back. His voice came to her ear, "Are you ready?"

She nodded slowly, and her gaze fell on the frost that covered the grass in a crunchy shell. Under her feet as she shifted her weight, the grass crunched mutely. She folded her hands behind her back when the urge to wring them rose like a wave in her system. Her father's hand closed around her shoulder to pull her into him, but she dug her heels into the slick earth. If he comforted her, her heart would will her to stay. Her eyes met his and then she bowed her head to him. The reflection of grief glinted in his eyes, to which her heart shuddered. He turned away from her on his heel, his cloak billowing behind him as he took up a saddle and silver blanket. Behind her, the whicker of horses alerted her to Arwen's arrival. She turned to face the maiden of Imladris and her guard, thus becoming dimly aware of Haldir and Faenaur.

Arwen's dappled mare came trotting up to her, and Arwen smiled down at her. "It is a fine day to be departing these lands." Her grey gaze fell on Faenaur, and Coruwen's heart jolted in her chest once again – this time in shock at Arwen's reaction. Her smile drifted away, a mere sliver of happiness gone. Her gaze became curious, her eyes studying the palomino stallion closely.

"Is something the matter, my lady?" Orophin asked, his eyes trained on Arwen, who still kept her gaze trained on Faenaur.

Coruwen's fingers toyed with a lock of hair, and there was little she could do to stop her thoughts from churning around in her head. She wondered if Faenaur was a bad horse to bear her across the Misty Mountains, or if she would even follow the gracious Lady Undomiel. The stallion had a great fire kindled within him, like a great ball that grew when she grew near him – she saw it in his brown eyes. And yet, her thoughts broke when Arwen giggled.

"He will be an excellent playmate for Eleniel." Beside her, one of her guards nodded. The grey gaze of Arwen fell on Coruwen, who started slightly at the calm sharpness within. "Are you ready?"

Her words became like lead in her mouth, her throat became tight, and thus she only nodded. Arwen's lips turned up in a smile, and she reined her mare around in a circle with her guards trailing behind. Coruwen gave her father once last glance – one belonging to departure's grief– before she swung up onto the back of Faenaur. And not once, as Faenaur carried her away, did her eyes drift back.

~.~.~

"What is Imladris like, my lady?" Coruwen asked when they had stopped upon the High Pass. It was the quickest way to Imladris from Lothlórien, though the path was rocky and dangerously high up. The stone was lined with thin rills of water that were as thin as hair strands, and grey like storm clouds. The ellith stood huddled against a corner with an outcropping of rock protecting them from the bitter cold.

Coruwen turned her gaze from the grey clouds, lighter than pillows, to speak to Arwen, her hands shaking in the cold by her sides. When the bitter wind died down, she asked,"What is Imladris like, my lady?"

Arwen let out a breath, though it turned into white steam quickly. "I believe it is as beautiful as Lothlórien is… Though, far from quiet. The Bruinen is quite loud, but nonetheless it is beautiful." Arwen told her. Coruwen rubbed her hands together when a brisk and bitter wind cut through their thick cloaks. Her lady smirked, "I believe you will enjoy my city, Coruwen."

There was a silence between them as the wind galloped past them, sending their hair into their eyes and cloaks flapping. Arwen sighed and smoothed down her cloak. Coruwen flipped her hood up once her hair was free from her eyes. Coruwen felt a tiny jab of curiosity come when she saw that Arwen's guards had wandered off.

"I overheard the guards mention your brothers?" She inquired. At her question, Arwen giggled. "By that, my lady, I would think that they are trouble."

And then the lady's grey gaze fell on her, once again sharp. "Must I correct you on this?" Coruwen frowned, her arms snaking around her sides. "I am not a lady to you – I am Arwen. I know it is a habit, and I should not correct you like an overbearing mother, but…" She took Coruwen's hands from her sides, the lady's hands frigid compared to her own, "We are to be studying together."

"Yes, of course…"

With a hum, she continued, "And to answer your question – yes. My brothers are twins and they are far more trouble than they are worth. Though, I love them… They are hard to handle."

"Will they trouble us?"

"More than likely…" There was agitation in her voice and Coruwen's heart panged in a fit of worry. She thought of her uncles and their bickering. No doubt, she would have to be calm around Arwen's brothers just as she was around Rumil and Orophin. It was not a simple task, she noted when the guards came trudging back. Against her side, she felt a playful poke and then caught Arwen's grin. "Ah, and here I was… thinking the two of you had gotten lost."

"We apologize, my ladies… We found the way down from here that leads to the Road," One guard panted, his leaned forward with his hands on his knees to gain a breath. "Nothing attacked you, did it?"

"I believe we would not be present if said action came to pass," Coruwen said, her voice calm despite the worry bouncing inside of her. Beside her, Arwen quietly giggled, bringing a soft smile to her own face. The other guard straightened, brushed off his mail of scales, and then disappeared around the corner. Beside her, Arwen's giggle morphed into laughter. "Did I say something?"

"Your tone is quite like one of the lords in Imladris – Lord Glorfindel, who is our lord commander. He enjoys play." Arwen's voice was quiet, almost inaudible. It was supposed compliment, she reflected. Coruwen tucked her hands into the folds of her cloak when the other guard vanished from sight. Arwen glanced over at her, her eyes wandering up and down Coruwen's body. "I hate to ask this of you, but do you always become terribly nervous?"

Coruwen started at the sound of the lady's question, her hands falling back to her sides. "I suppose it is concern more than anything… I-I have always worried…"

Arwen reached out and took her hand, her fingers much like her own – bitten by the wind and pink – giving Coruwen's hand a squeeze. She was thankful for the happiness that Arwen gave to her, and yet she was bothered at the same time, for she could not give anything but concern to the Lady Undomiel.

"Are you prepared to depart, my ladies?" One guard's broke her reverie. Poking from around the grey stone corner were Faenaur and Eleniel; their elegant heads swinging in lessened play. Coruwen and Arwen beckoned their horses to their sides with a snap of their fingers.

As Eleniel and Faenaur came trotting up to their mistress's, Arwen spoke without looking at the guards, her hands outstretched to take Eleniel's face. "I believe we are."

They bowed their heads to her and retreated back to find their own horses. Coruwen rubbed Faenaur's neck in small circles and he whickered with a toss of his head. Gripping the reins, she pulled herself onto his back and settled into the saddle. Beside her, Arwen hissed at the cold. Coruwen did not voice her hatred of the cold as it nipped at her skin, though it was quite tempting when she so much as shifted.

"To think it will become colder is a farfetched idea," Coruwen murmured, her voice full of regret. She shifted in the saddle once again. Arwen nodded in agreement, and the two nudged their horses into a slow walk. "Do you think winter will be any colder than this?"

Lady Undomiel glanced back at her guards, and then returned it to Coruwen. There was mischief and an odd somberness to her stormy eyes. "They told me that snow has fallen all ready in Imladris."

Coruwen felt herself frown at the mention of snow. Lothlórien never had experienced snow before, and for the most part it only became cold in the icy months of the year. And Coruwen had never left Lothlórien until now. Beside her, Arwen laughed, which startled her. Perhaps it was the frown on her face or the deathly silence that fell over that Arwen caught.

"I forget, you have not seen snow before… It is simply cold – nothing more." Her friend assured her. Coruwen smiled, nodding and followed Arwen down the narrow slopes of the High Pass. As they ventured down the slopes of the pass, the dark grey stone began to shine in the midday sun. At the sight of it, the guards mentioned that the pass would become treacherous, should anyone make any sudden moves. Faenaur and Eleniel's ears turned in annoyance at one point when they had stopped on the other side of the High Pass.

One guards slid down from his saddle, his hand flicking to his bow. As he moved ahead of Faenaur and Eleniel, he withdrew a tawny fletched arrow from a quiver on his hip. Underneath his feet, the light snow and ice crunched like tiny pebbles, and Coruwen rubbed Faenaur's neck as he snorted out white puffs of steam in anxiety.

"What do you hear, kinsman?" Arwen asked, hushed. The guard stole a glance back at her and then motioned with two fingers to the hills above them. The ladies' eyes rose to the slick ridges above them. The quiet groan of a bowstring being pulled made Coruwen's heart jump into a gallop in her chest. The guard had an arrow notched and pulled back to his cheek, prepared to fire at whatever moved above them.

"If you are going to shoot, I suggest you do it quickly," A voice laughed above them and it echoed off of the rocks. Over the edge of the ridge, a dark head appeared. The ellon's hair was dark and his mail was formed of bands of polished silver. Against the dark rock and dusting of snow, he was a silver star. He slid down the side of the hill, leaping down before the guard with more grace than a mountain lion. A sly smirk appeared on his face when the guard lowered his weapon and jumped back. "Well, if it isn't my sweet sister, come home from Lothlórien."

Arwen's grey eyes narrowed up at the figure, and she reined her horse closer, despite Eleniel's neigh of protest. Coruwen felt a strange sense of confusion and lightness wash over her at the sight of this ellon.

"Elladan, what were you doing?" Arwen inquired, her voice edging suspicion. She raised her hand to the other guard, and he mechanically lowered his lance. Elladan stalked close to his sister and took her horse's reins to cease Eleniel's nervous whinnies.

Coruwen's gaze thinned when Elladan spoke, "Glorfindel and I were hunting an orc pack that strayed too close to home before you came along." He sighed, running a hand over his chiseled face. "In fact, we thought we had them cornered… Low and behold, we were wrong."

"To be fair, we mistook you for orcs as well, Lord Elladan," The other guard chimed, his horse walking past hers.

Coruwen let out a low hum, thinking of her father and uncles in Lothlórien, who had spoken of the orcs that had begun venturing down from the Misty Mountains. She remembered Rumil telling her that the orcs cut the necks of all races while they slept, and all they would find in the tiny huts of Men were splatters of blood upon the walls. They were becoming brave, perhaps too brave, she thought darkly. Her fingers tightened into the folds of her dress as a bitter breeze tore past them and into the narrow pass that she figured must have led to Imladris. The wind seemed to howl throughout the narrow pass, and she shivered.

"Let us come back with you, sister. Glorfindel and I have hunted those orcs for far too long… Adar will become livid if I do not return soon," Elladan said as he started back up the ridge. Watching him climb, Coruwen felt a tiny tickle of fear race up her spine – for years she had climbed trees, and never once did she think that climbing rocks would be an excellent idea. Elladan disappeared up the ridge, his blue cloak vanishing from sight.

The whinny of a horse drew her gaze to another lord, golden haired and noble of face, who led two horses by the reins to Elladan. He handed a bay stallion to Elladan and for a brief moment, Coruwen met the lord's gaze. His eyes were a royal blue, and within sparkled wisdom and power like banked flames. She tore her gaze away, focusing it back on Arwen as she turned Eleniel to follow the guards that marched onward down the narrow pass. And for the longest time as they ventured down, there was a thick silence amidst them. Coruwen caught the glances of Arwen every so often, but nothing was said and she was left to listen to the whickering of horses and muffled roar of the falls nearby.

However, her silence was rewarded when the tiny group rounded a switchback down into the crevice of Imladris, where the ivory city greeted them. It appeared hidden amongst the overhanging branches and sun bleached stone, but as the sun's eye passed over it, the ivory flashed like a winking star. Elladan paused on the lower road with a wide grin on his face.

"Welcome home, sweet sister," Elladan announced and nudged his horse down the next switchback. Arwen's guards followed after their lord, but the golden lord lingered behind with Arwen and Coruwen. Arwen shook her head, muttering something under her breath as Coruwen neared her.

"Arwen," The lord began with a kind smile. Coruwen looked to the ellon as he turned his smile upon her, and she returned it. "Who is your charming friend?"

Arwen's attention snapped back like a bowstring, her grey eyes lighting up, but she followed after Elladan at a slow pace. "She is the healer that will be joining me. Did Adar not inform you that she would be following me?"

"No, he did not." The lord replied. He frowned, and Coruwen giggled into her hand. His attention returned to Coruwen's, and he smiled once again. His smile was kind, a warm smile that made her feel at ease around him. "I am Glorfindel, my lady… It is a pleasure to meet you."

Coruwen gave him a bow of her head, "My thanks to you, my lord. I am Coruwen, daughter of Haldir."

He motioned for her to start ahead of him, which she took and guided Faenaur down the slope. Her horse snorted in unease as he started down the slick path. Behind her, Glorfindel's voice resounded like a iron bell, "I have met Haldir before… I had no idea he had a daughter."

A prickle of heat touched her ears and she looked down at her gloved hands, feeling the skin on her knuckles burn. Her throat constricted in sudden unease, and she did her best to cast off the concern that was locked within. Never before had she been around lords of high order, and she tried her best to appear calm – though without a doubt Glorfindel had caught it.

"H-He does not speak of me much, my lord. It would be my uncles that speak kindly of me," Coruwen told him, keeping the crackle of nervousness out of her voice. Behind her, Glorfindel hummed and she turned her eyes back on him – he was frowning ever so slightly. "Does that strike you as odd?"

"Yes, very much so. Fathers are often fond of boasting about their daughters, especially if they are fair as you and Lady Arwen," Glorfindel chuckled and she turned away, her face burning.

"You are one for flattery, I see…" Faenaur's ears turned back when she spoke. Glorfindel's deep laugh rose to her ears, bright like the sun. Her stallion's ears turned back to the road once again when she patted his warm neck.

"Have you never been called fair by an ellon? If you have not, I find that strange."

Within her, frustration's fire began to kindle and it stirred her blood. Yet despite its goading, she kept her tone even and watched the snow kick up underneath Faenaur's feet like powder.

"Are you always this curious?" Her question came in a lighter tone that startled Glorfindel a tiny bit, and at his reaction, his horse threw back his head with a snort. It took every bit of will power Coruwen possessed not to burst out in laughter at the disgruntled lord. He let out a short sigh, fixed the reins in his hand and rode up alongside her as the road's mouth widened.

"Well, Lord Erestor would tell you differently than I, but I suppose it is a nasty habit." From above, snow drifted down onto his flaxen hair and he shook his head free of the white flakes that dusted his hair. He brushed it away and then looked far ahead of them. "Ah, I see our horses have found the way."

Through the hood of her cloak, Coruwen felt the bite of the falling snow and found that it had not stopped Faenaur from trotting onwards into the depths of Imladris. He glided past the statues of the elven warriors with their spears held at the ready and their cloaks being swept tight against their backs, but frozen forever in stone. Eleniel gave a toss of her head at the sight of Faenaur, and Coruwen reined her horse close to the mare to allow them to greet one another. When she made to dismount, she felt hands grip her sides and pull her down to the slick stone, at which she yelped and clung to the hands that held her. Above her, she heard a familiar laugh – Glorfindel's laugh.

"I forget that it does not snow in Lothlórien," Glorfindel stated, his tone feigning forgetfulness. She struggled to keep herself upright, and she cast off her hood to see what lie around her. She could see the polished silver of Glorfindel's armor and the cloak of royal blue velvet that shadowed him. She also saw Faenaur's blonde fur trembling and Eleniel's grey coat. "You may cling to me if desired, my lady."

As her blood stirred in irritation, she threw an annoyed glare at Glorfindel as her world was knocked out from beneath her feet. Inwardly, she was not letting snow get the better of her, and she stepped away from him. The earth was slick beneath her feet, as though it was formed of the smoothest silk yet it clung to her feet like an anxious child. Without a second thought – tossing caution to the wind – she took another step and her world shrank beneath her feet and she collapsed on the ground. Glorfindel was at her side quickly and picked her up, letting her balance while holding onto his hands.

"I feel like a newborn fawn," Coruwen mumbled, staring at their hands in anger. Her fingers began to ache as the cold seeped into her skin, biting like needles and turned them red.

Glorfindel chuckled, "Would you have me carry you to the top of the stair then?" She sent a look of curiosity his way, and said nothing. "Fine then – I shall carry you."

"W-What? No!" And he heard her, not taking the initiative he had carved out. "L-Let me at least take your hand, my lord."

"As you wish, dear lady."He gingerly guided her to the tall stairway and the two climbed together. She took each step with great amounts of concern, her world threatening to be knocked out from under her once more. Coruwen took deep breaths and steadied herself until Glorfindel's voice shattered her thoughts like a rock hitting a looking glass. "So you are to be studying with Arwen?"

She swallowed the pain in her throat, "Y-yes, my lord."

"Well, I have good news for you then," She stole a glance from him, and paused when he abruptly stopped. It was then – that she realized – he had guided her all the way to the top of the stairs and they were not on snow any longer. She let out a long breath of relief, and met his blue gaze with a small smile turning up her lips. "You and I will be seeing more of the other one."

* * *

_A/N: Thank you all for the response thus far. :) It means a lot to me. Anyway, if you have questions, please ask me in the review section and I will reply! :) _

_If you want to follow me on Tumblr, please look me up as Flameangel24. And always, review, favorite, follow, and share with friends. _

_Much love - Angel _


	3. Chapter 3

_~Chapter 3~_

_White Night _

_A few months later… _

Coruwen tapped her temple in thought; her eyes scanning over hundreds of words and detailed pictures of herbs. Hours upon hours she had sat in the limited light of the library, looking over the various books Elrond had given her. It had been instructed of her several months ago to study three thick books of varying medicines every two weeks. She was to be up at first light and start her lessons with Elrond and Arwen. It was not until the late afternoon that she and Arwen were allowed to spend the rest of the day as they willed.

However, she was finding trouble whilst learning the counters to the specific poison that orcs were said to use. She had asked Erestor which poisons orcs used, or what they were based upon, but he said they varied from generation to generation, stronghold to stronghold. Elrond had not told her which stronghold, or even which age for that matter. She felt adrift in a sea, alone and confused. Coruwen sat back in her chair and pinched the space between her eyes. With a sigh, she removed her hand and opened her eyes to stare at the high, ivory ceiling of the library. Freckled light pranced on the ceiling, the outside world taunting her. Then behind her, the creak of the door made her sit straight, her spine crackling in grief.

"Coruwen?" Arwen's voice called. Upon slippered feet, Arwen approached her and when she saw Coruwen, she smiled brightly. Long, satin trailed after the Lady Undomiel colored metallic blue, and shone likes pools of moonlight under the sun's gaze. Coruwen's fingers tugged at the crimson velvet she wore. Arwen's grey eyes met hers abruptly, startling her slightly. "I have been looking everywhere for you."

"I apologize, Lady –"She caught herself on that word, the word becoming bitter in her mouth. She raised a hand in silent defiance against the word, and continued. "Arwen… I have been studying the different orc poisons that lie in this world."

Arwen hummed, her smile melting away. She reached forward and touched the dark binding of the book with light fingers. Her eyes roved over the page. "Adar is testing you… Know that much."

Coruwen let out an irritated sigh, her forehead resting on her hand. She worried her bottom lip and nearly tasted her own blood. "Do you have _any_ hint you can give me?" She asked Arwen. Her friend shrugged, "Arwen, please."

Arwen gave her a shake of her head, the few curls around her face lightly swatting her. "Adar has told me nothing, my friend. I wish I knew more, but I have a completely different test I must look after."

"I know…" Coruwen stood, and Arwen took a step back. "Now, what did you need me for?"

"My brothers offered to take us riding," Arwen's eyes lit up and Coruwen smiled at the thought. "That is, if you wish to come."

Coruwen laughed softly, "Of course, I would love to come. Faenaur needs to be ridden and I have been cooped up in here for far too long." They both laughed merrily at that and she stole a glance down at the books she left on the oak desk. She had strewn so many books on the desk that little of the glossy wood could be seen underneath. "Perhaps I could convince Lord Erestor to have his steward take these to my chamber."

Arwen hummed and then turned sharply on her feet to leave her for a moment. Coruwen did not ask why or what she was doing, for she had learned that with Arwen in the past. Arwen concocted her own plans and carried them out at random. As she waited, Coruwen twirled a few gold waves around her fingers and let them softly bounce back to place on her chest. The differing shades of blonde and brown were a stark difference to the bright crimson velvet she wore. Grumbling heralded Arwen's return to her, closely followed by the twins – Elladan and Elrohir. Elrohir smiled as he passed her and Elladan ignored her to start gathering the books in his arms.

"You are mad," Elladan grunted as his twin handed him another book. He pushed it open with his nose, and his grey eyes widened, "What in the name of the Valar are you doing looking up orc poisons?"

"Adar gave her a test," Elrohir answered as though it were obvious. Coruwen felt a smile pull at her mouth as Elrohir lightly smacked his brother on the head with a thin book. They were hard to tell apart, the twins, or at least by appearance, but if one was around them enough, they were easy to depict. If one stood close enough to Elrohir, one saw that he had green flecks in his wintry eyes while Elladan's were plain and Arwen's were flecked with blue.

Elladan stuck his tongue out at his brother and Arwen rolled her eyes with a smile. As the ellyn carried the books down to Coruwen's chambers, the ellith walked side by side and lingered behind the twins a ways to watch them. Elrohir pulled open her chamber door while Elladan quietly bickered, though Coruwen could not hear what he spoke about.

"You know," Arwen tugged on Coruwen's sleeve lightly. It drew her attention from the twins and their tottering tower of books. "I have heard from Glorfindel that he might ask you to _Coirë._"

Coruwen felt heat rush to the back of her neck, "A-Arwen… Why would you say that?"

"Because it is true!" Arwen stopped and dragged her back to her side, her grey eyes stern. ""I heard it the other day when he was speaking with Ada."

Coruwen sighed, "I have told you time and time again to not eavesdrop." Arwen looked at her sharply still, but she paid it no mind. She removed her hand from her friend's. "I know _Coirë_ is nigh, but Glorfindel is my mentor."

"He teases you."

"He teases _everyone._" Her tone was flat, but Arwen then smirked. "What?"

"What if I convinced Elrohir to take you then?"

Coruwen hesitated a moment, catching the faint glimpses of the twins leaving her chambers. In her mind, she remembered Elrohir telling her that he was to take another maiden by the name of Nixiel. He was often smitten with the maid, and certainly she was not going to stop him in his advances. She shook her head.

"If either one of them asks me, then I will have my answer. Until then," She gave Arwen a stern glance. "Do not speak a word of it to anyone, understand?"

Arwen smiled, "I understand."

The twins' eyes landed on them and they ran over to their sides, both stricken with an almost cat like curiosity. Coruwen withheld a laugh at the sight of the brothers and their matching actions. A ghostly smile flashed on Arwen's face and they started down the hall, the only sounds that came were from the twin's boots and the elliths' dresses. Coruwen clutched her hands behind her back as she walked, the thought of Elrond's test sitting promptly in her mind. It was an infection in her mind; it festered and turned her joy into concern. Her teeth scrambled to bite the inside of her cheek as to staunch the brooding concern that stalked around in the shadows of her mind.

"Coruwen?" All at once Elrohir broke the silence, and her teeth released the sore muscle of her cheek to allow her to speak. She gave him a sideways glance in answer. "Adar gave you a test to search orc poisons, I saw."

"Yes, he did," She answered tensely, and let her hands swing forward to clasp them in front of her. Inwardly, she felt a wave of regret drown her and she sighed. "Forgive me, I did not mean to be… tight."

Elrohir gave her a shake of his head. "I understand, medicine is tricky – that much I know. Though, Adar gave you a nasty subject to fixate upon." He gave her a smile, one of warmth. His smile reminded her of Glorfindel's; it was a warm, easy smile. Slowly, she returned it before they came upon the door that led to the walkway of an icy terrace. Elladan volunteered begrudgingly to fetch the horses while Elrohir ran to find cloaks and boots for the ladies. Arwen tossed a smile her way, at which she feigned rolling her eyes. Elrohir returned to them faster than expected and handed her a blonde cloak lined with rabbit fur. She pulled all of her hair to the side before swinging the heavy cloak over her shoulders.

"Lord Elrond has every right to give me such a test..." Coruwen continued as she cinched a leaf of Lórien brooch at her throat. Her fingers ghosted over the grey rabbit fur, feeling the plush fur wrap around her fingers loosely. "I have done well with poultices, herb, bindings, and calming patients."

"And Glorfindel boasts about you." Arwen added lightly and Elrohir snorted in laughter.

Why did such a phrase not shock her? The golden lord often enjoyed watching her when she worked and had taken up being her mentor in Elrond's stead while he focused on Arwen. It was not to say that she did not enjoy Glorfindel's presence, but boasting about her healing skills was a tad much. She sighed, irritated.

"Not surprising," She grumbled. Elrohir grabbed both of them and corralled them closer to wrap his arms around their shoulders. Arwen laughed and Coruwen smiled wide. Her voice lightened, "He does it for sport, does he not?"

Elrohir nodded, "Aye, he has been bugging and boasting about different people since I can remember."

"Elrohir!" Elladan's shout drew the group's gaze up to Elladan, who struggled to maintain Eleniel and a stocky bay gelding in his hands. Elrohir leapt to his brother's aid, his dark brown hair stark against the pale snow. Like a gold comet, Faenaur came trotting from behind Elladan with a roan mare in tow.

On careful feet, Coruwen slipped off her slippers and into the fur lined boots Elrohir had brought along with him; Arwen close at her heels. Her skin turned to gooseflesh when the bitter air touched it. Looking up, she saw the sun streaming through patches of thinned, grey clouds. The snow had ceased for a while, but still the wind bit deeper than any wolf could dream of. Coruwen had grown used the frosty lace that appeared on window panes and the crunch of snow underfoot.

In greeting, Faenaur whickered and lipped at a bit of her hair. Coruwen laughed quietly, brushed away a bit loose, white hair from his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his snout. Arwen walked up to Faenaur and reached out for him. The stallion gave her a snort, but then nuzzled his mistress more.

"Is… Is he _shy?_" Arwen asked in disbelief. Her grey eyes grew wide at the thought and Coruwen gazed down at the muzzle she held in her hands, contently warm and covered in peach fuzz. Perhaps he was, and perhaps he was like a clinging child to its mother. She giggled and ran a hand up his snout to his forelock. His brown eyes became curious. Once again Arwen reached out for him, but stopped short when the roan mare nipped at Elladan, who released Eleniel long enough for the mare to trot over to her lady.

"You should simply allow them to follow you, brother," Arwen lightly scolded and pulled herself onto Eleniel's back. The mare snorted out white mist when her mistress gripped the reins tightly. Coruwen gripped the well worn leather of Faenaur's reins and followed suit of Arwen. She settled herself in the saddle, but felt slightly uncomfortable at the bitter cold. Elladan appeared at her feet, his gloved hands fixing the stirrups and cinch.

"If I could let them, sweet sister – I would. You know I cannot trust Belgaer though," Elladan replied, motioning to the bay gelding that nibbled at his hoof. Coruwen lightly tapped Elladan with her foot, smiling. He flicked his gaze up at her and then at the cinch around Faenaur's belly. Again, she tapped him. Irritation flared in his voice, "Will you stop that?"

"If it will cease your irritability, yes," Coruwen answered, her smile fading. Elrohir and Arwen laughed as Elladan growled under his breath. As Elrohir and Elladan mounted their horses and started on the path out of Imladris, Coruwen felt a pang of concern dance around her. The whispers of the trees became muffled to her; the winds barely carried their soft song against the might of her concern and the chilling winds of winter. Talk of her test made her uneasy – heavens it was the mere thought of it that unnerved her! The moment she did not think of it, it came skulking back like a shadow. Elrond had told her to look for orc poisons, and did not give her insight onto which age, which fortress… Perhaps she was over-thinking this. She swept her hood over her head to shut out the cold wind that nipped at her ears.

The twins led them out of Imladris and along the banks of the Bruinen. The ground crunched under Faenaur's hooves like pebbles and kicked up chunks of ice when he became startled. The forest was barren, the long limbs of the trees stuck out awkwardly as they reached high up into the sky, greatly resembling spindling silk. Ice storms and rain had stripped the trees of their full tops, leaving nothing more than clinging icicles in their place. Some of the icicles had fallen to the earth to create glistening spires that dared to trip up a horse and rider if they were not careful. However, it was not the forest that unsettled Coruwen in the slightest – in its stead was the Bruinen. The azure waters still churned and babbled, but snow had capped many of the rocks and let large chunks of ice float dangerously close to the edge of the banks.

Elladan halted Belgaer and swung down. Elrohir reined his mare close to his brother's gelding, "El, I would not do what you are thinking about." Elrohir warned, and Coruwen stopped Faenaur and twisted his head around to face the twins. Elladan had crept close to the water's edge, his foot prodding a sharp chunk of ice. Vaguely, she remembered Glorfindel telling her to stay firmly away from the Bruinen during winter. _Once you fall in, there is little one can do to get you out. _His words rang like bells in her mind, and she dared to say that before one of them fell in but her voice fell short on her tongue.

Elladan leaned forward, his hand brushing away the chunk of ice and sent it floating drunkenly down the river. He straightened and patted Elrohir on the shoulder before mounting Belgaer once more. The worry died in Coruwen's chest as the twins trotted past them on their mounts. She turned a concerned glance on Arwen, who cast her eyes onto Eleniel's reins. With a click of her tongue, Faenaur cantered after the twins with her friend close behind.

The group passed out of Hidden Valley and onto the rolling gullies and rising hills that surrounded it. Coruwen's eyes scanned the horizon, finding only snow and ice. She turned Faenaur in circle.

Smiling softly, she offered. "Boys," Both sons of Elrond turned to her and cocked their heads in unison. "How does a small race fetch you?"

Elladan made a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh, "How about on the way, dear one?"

She gave him a bow of her head in answer. The twins nudged their horses along and disappeared into a swooping gully. Coruwen and Arwen watched her brothers meander their horses along the rising hills of the valley, their eyes never leaving the murky horizon. Arwen reined in closer to her, the hood of her cloak shadowing her eyes.

"They have been acting oddly…" Arwen tapped her fingers for a moment in clear thought.

Coruwen narrowed her eyes, "Whatever do you mean?"

Arwen looked at her with concern glowing in her eyes. It was plain to see, the twins had grown silent since they first left the protection of Elrond's ring, Vilya. In the back of her mind, Coruwen had noticed it with her father and uncles as well. When they left Nenya's field of power, they grew quiet and their eyes were always roved around. She knew what their silence meant, and now she wanted to hear Arwen's opinion of it.

"They leave the Valley and they fall back on the Ranger training that Glorfindel had taught them. I believe there may be an orc pack that stalks around our borders…" Arwen replied gravely and she shook her head. "I do not wish to believe such a thing."

"Has Estel noticed anything?" Coruwen tightened her grip on Faenaur's reins when worry began to constrict her throat like a vice. Arwen shook her head again. "Lord Elrond or Glorfindel then?"

Realization flashed on Arwen's face, and then it became rueful, "Adar has… There was an orc pack that had risen out of Dunland and passed just briefly into our lands." Coruwen hummed and watched Elladan rise onto a low plateau, his armor flickering in the overcast sun. The brief flashes of silver hurt her eyes, forcing her to look down at Faenaur. "You said that the orcs near Lothlórien come down from the Misty Mountains, correct?"

Coruwen nodded, "My Adar has long since kept Lothlórien's borders safe, but even he was facing trouble with the orc packs."

Silence passed between them faster than a gale. Arwen turned her gaze on her brothers as they wheeled their horses around and started back. Coruwen could see the white mist arching from the nostrils of the twins' horses against the light grey sky, and she began to wonder. She wondered if the twins had seen something.

Arwen piped up again, "Did Adar give you any direction on _which_ orc poison you should research?"

"No, he merely told me to research orc poisons on top of the daily regimen of books that you and I read," Faenaur snorted, nipped at Eleniel's mane and Coruwen veered his head away from the mare. Her voice grew stern. "It is quite aggravating in truth. Why do you ask?"

"Have you tried asking Glorfindel yet?" Coruwen, begrudgingly, shook her head and Arwen giggled. "Stubborn one, are you not?"

"Me? No," Coruwen smiled faintly. It eased the aching fire in her chest when she smiled, though it could not hide the inward strife that tumbled in her. It felt as though something crawled beneath her skin that she could not rid herself of.

A thundering of hooves behind her snapped her out of her thoughts and she raised her gaze to the twins. One raced after the other, mere blurs in her vision. Faenaur rose up on his back feet a tiny bit and she squeaked loudly, her hands threading themselves into the stallion's course hair. And then the air shuddered with the scream of a horse.

~.~.~

"I cannot believe you… _Either_ of you!" Arwen scolded, fury rising in her voice. Her chest burned with pent up worry and anger. Elrohir stared down at his broken leg in shame while Elladan took it upon himself to investigate the ivory ceiling. Quieter than a mouse, Coruwen set Elladan's sprained wrist and then moved to Elrohir. Arwen let out a tiny growl and began to pace, her skirts flying around her like blue winds.

"Arwen, if you could hold Elrohir down," Coruwen instructed, her voice clear. Arwen had never heard such a voice come from her friend before that it made her start at first. She turned on Coruwen to see her friend's blue eyes meeting her grey ones, and locked within was a deep seriousness.

Her mind did not make sense of what Coruwen asked of her until she started to move to reset her brother's leg. In an instant, Arwen and Elladan pinned their brother down while Coruwen reset the bones in his leg that had been broken. Her brother howled behind clenched teeth despite Coruwen calming him to the best of her ability, and it was not until she had begun to wrap linen and long stretches of wood around Elrohir's leg that he calmed down.

"And Adar says I am the reckless one," Elladan commented dryly as he sat at his twin's head and played with the ends of his dark hair. In response, Elrohir mumbled a slurred curse at his brother, who merely smiled and patted his head. Arwen inwardly shook her head at the both of them. "Speaking of Adar – should we tell him that this happened?"

Her brother looked to _her_ for answer. She opened her mouth to answer, but Coruwen beat her to it. As she untied her wavy hair from a low horsetail, Coruwen said, "Seeing as _Coirë _is in a few days, I would. Our people may heal quickly, but _this_," She gestured to Elrohir's leg and his wrist, "Will not heal in a few days' time."

"Of course not," Mumbled Elrohir. Or that was what Arwen thought he may have mumbled, it sounded terribly close to it. She took Elladan's place at his head and she stroked her older brother's hairline gently. He gazed up at her with blank and glassy grey eyes; the green flecks receded back as pain flickered for a moment.

"Coruwen," Arwen said hurriedly, drawing her friend's attention. The crimson velvet Coruwen wore swished around her as she came to her side and inspected her brother's face. "He is in pain."

Coruwen growled and moved to a nearby cabinet, and begun to dig around within its contents for something. Taking a mortar and pestle in hand, she began to grind up various herbs that her hands snatched with quick reflexes. Arwen smiled at the sight, a warm blossom of pride rising in her chest. Their training had paid off after all. After all, as winter came, fewer and fewer elves – or Dúnedan for that matter – became injured or sick.

"Elladan is the kettle on the fire boiling still?" Coruwen asked. Arwen caught the tiniest fragment of worry clipping the end of the maiden's speech. Her brow furrowed in an instant. Elladan moved to the hearth and briefly touched the iron kettle that rested there.

"Yes, why? What do you need me to do?" Elladan asked, the worry from Coruwen bleeding over to him. Arwen felt Elrohir's shoulders tense under her touch and she looked to her friend, who gave her a quick, sideways glance. As Coruwen instructed Elladan, Arwen sang softly to her other brother to keep him calm. She had barely blinked before Coruwen had given Elrohir a basic tea that he sipped slowly until his breathing evened out.

"I had no idea a fall could do this to him," Arwen murmured as she moved her brother's head in her lap. Coruwen sat in a chair to the left of the hearth and began playing with the sleeve of her dress. She glanced over at Elladan, "You two never have done this…"

Elladan shrugged down into another chair, his fingers toying with a braid. "I know… However, his horse fell on him while Belgaer simply threw me." Her brother explained and hugged his injured wrist to his chest. "Adar is going to be upset – I can feel it."

"He will not, brother," She replied smoothly. She sent a kind glance at him and he smiled softly. "Adar will understand."

A knock on the doorway startled the three of them, sending their gazes to the rounded doorway. In the archway stood Glorfindel, who gave Arwen a tiny smile before glancing around the corner at Coruwen. Smoothly, he beckoned her with a crook of his finger. Within herself, Arwen beamed with knowing as the lady stood and followed Glorfindel out of the room. Despite being her mentor, Glorfindel had taken a liking to Coruwen, in an odd sense. Often he would toy with her and poke fun simply to see her become flustered. This, Arwen knew and had merely waited patiently – like one of Erestor's cats – for the time to fall correctly.

~.~.~

"You could choose Angband," Glorfindel offered, his hand ghosting over an old book that dated back to nearly the Second Age. The pages were time-weathered, the pages colored a goldenrod yellow rather than white or soft yellow. Coruwen stared up at him and caught the firelight playing in his hair, making it appear golden-red rather than the golden glow of a candle. His royal blue eyes flicked over to her and he smiled, "No?"

"We certainly have more on that fortress," Coruwen answered tiredly. She tapped her nails on the wooden arm of her chair and moved her gaze to her window that overlooked a long stretch of cascading waterfalls. She sighed, "I am not proficient in poisons, Glorfindel…"

He nodded, "I know."

She hesitated, unsure of what he had said until her mind pieced itself back together. Did he agree with her? This was unheard of… On a regular basis, he often pushed her to try more complex types of medicine, and not once did she doubt herself in his decisions. He was not going to attempt to push her? Her eyes hovered on him, awe-stricken.

"Confused?" He pulled up a chair beside her and wrapped a tentative hand around her shoulders. She squeaked when her shoulder met his and he rested his chin on her head. "I know one thing about you… Or at least as a healer I know one thing."

She raised her eyebrows at the page depicting a spawn of Ungoliant and a type of plant that grew wild in Beleriand once. "Oh?"

"You do not work well with toxic plants, or the few poisons that we keep here. I do hope to break you of this little _snag_ in the coming months." She smiled at that notion and backed out his touch to look down at the old book once more. His fingers touched the picture of the poisonous herb. "Now, do you remember what this is?"

She traced the lines of the plant, engraving in her mind the plant's shape. It took on the form of a bowing serpent; its leaves were shaded darkly and heart-shaped. Whoever had drawn this plant had taken the time to draw a single teardrop of water seeping from the head of the plant as though it wept. Her mind began rifling through various herbs that could have looked like this. Her fingers drummed faster as her mind raced.

And then there was nothing. Her mind halted and – if it would have – shrugged.

With a sigh, she shook her head. Glorfindel patted her hand gently and then spoke, "This is called a Scorpion's Tail, or amongst the elves of Nargothrond it was called the Spitting Serpent." One of his slender fingers traced the bead of water that was forever frozen rolling from the tip of the plant. "This is what the orcs of Angband used to create their poisons. Because within the plant is a nasty acid that can burn one's skin off."

Coruwen felt herself frowning at the thought, and then she tapped the Ungoliant spawn. Its fangs dripped with venom and its beady eyes stared out into nothingness. "What of the spiders then? What did the orcs use them for?"

Glorfindel cringed lightly before clearing his throat, "They milked the spiders for their venom because it can paralyze an Elf or Man." When she opened her mouth, he silenced her quickly. "And for dwarves I have no idea, curious one."

She hummed and let him continue. He knew her too well now; he knew she was always curious about other races and their ability to withstand differing types of wounds. He often called her his personal feline. "During my time, or at least what I remember, the orcs of Morgoth did not use such a poison. They used a plant called the Centipede. No one has recorded what it looked like, but many a time I found myself faced by it."

"Does Centipede still exist or even The Spitting Serpent?"

"No," Glorfindel rested his chin on the heel of his hand. "If they did, there would be a dangerous amount of sick people."

She did not whether to be happy or confused. For she knew from reading that Sauron's armies had not been heard of in four hundred years. Perhaps she would never see such terrible poisons used again. She shook her head inwardly; she was letting her curiosity get the better of her. She glanced up at Glorfindel as his fingers traced the outline of the screaming spider.

She surmised quickly that it would be best to compile what she could find on the Spitting Serpent and the Ungoliant poison. She stood; moving to the pile of books the twins had left for her earlier and began to dig for more books on the First and Second Ages. And for a time, she sat reading while Glorfindel quietly dozed on her desk. Words flicked in her eyes, some caught in the web of her memory and others flew past like embers in the wind. As she read, she began to play with various things around her – her hair, her sleeve, or her mentor's sleeve. In fact, she quite enjoyed that latter, he did not mind or so she thought. All at once while she read over the spawns of Ungoliant Glorfindel's hand snapped to hers, ceasing her movements.

"Enough," He muttered. She smiled when she heard the lightness of his tone. He cracked open his eyes to look at her closely. They flicked over her once before landing on the book in her hands. "How long have you been reading?"

"A few hours, I would say," Coruwen replied, her eyes ever so slowly returning to the book in her hands.

"All right," He peeled the book out of her grasp and she did not fight him. Once upon a time, she would have fought him and clawed for the book like an upset child, but she learned it was best to _not_ fight him. He slipped a tongue of silk ribbon into the binding of the book and shut in a loud _thump_. He returned his gaze to her, and instantly her heart leapt up in her chest – there was a mischief in his eyes. The lord smiled at her, "Answer me something, my curious one."

She gave him an incline of her head, despite her mind reeling and repeating the words from the books she previously read.

"I know it is late of me to ask this, but you do have someone to go with you to _Coirë_, correct?" His question was laced with an elfling's curiosity. With a soft smile, she shook her head. "Would… Would you go with me?"

Coruwen found herself remembering Arwen's earlier statement and feeling blush creep up the back of her neck. Half of her grumbled that Glorfindel was a high lord and her mentor, the other half told her to stop over-thinking the question. And she must have sat in silence –arguing with herself inwardly – too long for Glorfindel's eyes began to narrow. Despite what her mind said, she nodded. The lord stood and gently took her hand and kissed the back of it before bidding her good night.

Yet something still perturbed her. Was it not in an elleth's nature to have her heart flutter like a trapped bird in a cage when a lord kisses the back of their hand? Arwen had told her that when Estel kissed her hand, that her heart fluttered a tiny bit. Her mind felt a tiny bit torn – why had nothing happened?

* * *

_Fun Facts: _

_-Coire is an elvish turning of the season between February and April. _

_-Estel was a name given to Aragorn in his earlier years. _

_-Spitting Serpent and Centipede come from the Avatar Florapedia. Both are actual poisonous._

* * *

_I'm sorry if this story seems like it is going slow, but it will pick up as time goes on, that I promise! So, please, stay with me. Also, if you want to ask me questions and get little fun facts on this story and the whole trilgoy of Coruwen, look me up on Tumblr and follow me. _

_If you could, please drop me a review! And as always favorite, follow, and share with friends! _

_Until next time! -Angel _


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4 _

_~Coirë~_

_Obsidian walls climbed high, strong engraved pillars of stone kept the ceiling aloft while others were soldiers bent at the knee with a pillar upon their shoulders. Her eyes traced silver scars that were burned into the lustrous black stone, each varying in width and length until they either met their end upon the stone floor, or they collided with a broad pillar. When her eyes stopped tracing the scars, she found herself looking out into a chamber that seemed to have no end. She dared to take a step forward -, _

_An echoing hiss drew her gaze upward to a maw of darkness that stretched its long form into the ceiling. And like fire, it spat and hissed sending fear to rise and choke her throat. Her hand rose to the searing pain that threatened her, her nails scratching the skin there until the burning nerves died. The maw swelled, angry as a viper with a person's foot on its tail. In a burst of adrenaline, she stumbled backward into a wall where fire touched her skin and she shrieked. _

_Silver scars became like water, it moved and climbed high into the shadows until it became one with the plume of black. When fear's choking grip attempted to take her again, she was unable to flee, for it felt as though iron had been poured into her joints, bolting her to her place. With an unworldly scream, the shadow plunged forward and devoured the great chamber and her along with it. _

She bolted upright, panting and shivering all at once. Her satin nightgown clung to her low back as she drew her knees up to her chest when fear rattled in her chest. It shook her by the shoulders, sending her lungs into a fit of choked gasps. Coruwen fought to rein in her emotions. Nervous hands raked through her hair, pulling at rat-nest like waves until they were smooth. She stood, walking over to her window and threw it open despite the ice that barred her way for a brief moment. The wind bit at her face and arms, forcing the satin to cling to her body like a sword fitting around a sheath. Her eyes scanned the world under the blue-white gaze of the moon and ice covered snow. The gold flashed in her eyes followed by the liquid silver then as she gazed up into the black night sky. Silver stars twinkled upon the blanket of night, a faint memory of the lustrous stone and veins that she had beheld. The desire to turn away was strong, but she forced herself to remain still. Her hands sought her back where the silver had burned her, she found nothing but satin.

_What was that?_ She wondered, turning away from the window and shutting it. Her gown trailed after her as she began to pace around the dais that uplifted her bed. Her hands flitted through her hair when she began to think. In all of her days upon this earth, she had never seen such a dwelling beneath the earth. And the strange, hissing, spitting maw of darkness that had remained silent until she attempted to run. It was a predator, and she was merely prey. The silver veins in the obsidian had turned to liquid fire, and had burned her back yet they left not trace upon her skin, only the memory was left in her mind. Her hands threaded themselves together behind her back into knots of tense pain. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Coruwen wondered what she had seen.

~.~.~

The dream remained in her mind the whole day, badgering her by scarring the silver veins on the backs of her eyelids. As she braided her hair that morning, she felt her fingers begin to shake in remembrance of the devouring darkness and feeling of lead in her joints. The braids dropped from her fingers as she began to stare at her quaking hands. They felt alien to her, as though the muscle had sloughed off the bones in her fingers trembled and forced her to tighten her hands into white-knuckled fists. _Fear can cut deeper than swords_, she told herself over and over until the alien feeling left her. Haldir had told her those words when she became afraid as an elfling. The shaking left her as she forced the words into her mind, and slowly she began to weave her hair into a long braid.

Once finished, she found a riding dress, boots, and cloak before setting out to find Faenaur in the stables. The winds bit at Coruwen's hands as she ran across the circular clearing to the stables. Snorting horses, whispers, jingling mail, meowing cats, and tittering mice reached her ears when she slipped in through the stable door from the outside. Her hands pressed up against wooden beams with engraved, twining knots that climbed into arching wooden beams bathed in the mid-morning light. She passed lines of snorting horses, their colors varying from black to roan, until her eyes landed on Faenaur. Though his snowy mane obscured much of his face from her, she could hear the slight groan of wood being gnawed on by him.

"Hello Faenaur," Coruwen greeted, pressing her hand against another wooden beam, thankfully untouched by him. He stopped gnawing on the sodden wood beam to lip at free strands of her hair. She giggled quietly, and pushed playfully at him to back away to allow her into the stall. He continued to nudge her in curiosity while she ran her hands across his warm flank. Pulling her hand back, she found that dust and loose hairs covered it – she chewed the inside of her cheek. From a simple ride the other day, he had become dirty. Sidling out of the stall, she found a course brush, returned to Faenaur, and began to brush him down. Puffs of oddly colored dust plumed off of him and she let her mind wander.

Images of the city of stone flickered in her mind's eye like a candle flame. She noted how desolate the city looked. There was not a single shred of light that could be seen nor any song that could be heard, all that lived there was dust and rock. The gold chasings possessed their glimmer of fresh polish. _Nothing was touched, _she thought, letting the thought linger on in her mind.

When she finished brushing Faenaur, he followed her out into the long corridor between the lines of stalls like a lost pup. She bent down to grab her tack, but Faenaur bunted her in the hip, and nearly sent her headlong into Elrohir's tack. Coruwen turned a sour look back at her horse, but when whispering voice drew her attention, she let it fade.

"Orc packs were seen on our borders again," A voice hissed far behind her. Her spine tingled at the familiarity of the voice. It was too light to belong to Glorfindel – it belonged to a singer. She flicked her gaze backward briefly to catch the glimpse of dark hair and then a hat. Her heart stalled for a moment when she turned her gaze to the other side to catch sight of a pointed, grey-blue hat.

"Well did you catch them this time?" A gruff, elderly voice asked in a low tone. The voice sounded oddly familiar, but she did not know from where. The clunk of a staff pounded in her ears as the voices drifted, forcing her ears to strain. "They hunt something – or someone – and we cannot simply let them walk idly by."

"Tis not idly, Mithrandir," Coruwen placed the voice at the hissing tone of the last word uttered. Lindir… Elrond's steward. "The twins, Lord Glorfindel – Valar, even some of Thranduil's men have been hunting orcs. It is proving difficult to track a single target when thousands are present."

"Well…" The elder's voice faltered in thought. Faenaur's ears swiveled to the sound of the clunking of the staff again. Coruwen tightened the cinch around the stallion's belly once more and then moved to his head, where she cradled his head to her chest. Her curiosity would be the death of her, her father would say. From her spot, she could see the elderly man now. His beard was long and wispy and colored grey. He was tall with robes surrounding him like a great thunderhead cloud while in his hand he clasped a staff of knotted wood. He looked familiar to her…

Her attention fell on Lindir when he spoke, "We cannot kill these packs of orcs. They outrun our scouts and warriors long before they ever arrive. If one of them carries orders, then however are we to gain them?"

"That is a problem," The man turned abruptly and started off in a fast paced walk, leaving Lindir bewildered and forced to run after the man.

Coruwen ran her hand up Faenaur's nose and onto his forelock. "I should ask Arwen about this man later, Faenaur." She whispered into his plush, swiveling ear. He bumped her in the hip with his nose while she rubbed his shoulders, but her gaze lingered on where Lindir had been with the elderly man. What dumbfounded her was the man's face; he certainly was not an elf but one of the Edain. Was he possibly one of the Dunedain? Or was he one of the men of Bree or far from the east?

She mounted onto his back once she was outside and she nudged him in the direction of the roaring Bruinen. Faenaur followed the same path the twins had taken them the other day, and once free of the forest, he dared to start into a gallop but Coruwen's heart decided it would not be best. She would not risk Faenaur tripping as Elrohir's horse had done. The stallion fought her hard, swinging his head and rearing back on his hindquarters from time to time. With a tiny curse and sharp pull of the reins, she corralled his fighting spirit. Faenaur snorted out white steam before Coruwen guided him into a gully, but he backed away a foot. Nonetheless, she managed to nudge the stubborn stallion forward. The snow was deep with a light sheen over the top, forcing Faenaur's hooves to sound like drums rather than iron shoed hooves. She screwed her eyes shut and dug her nails into the pale green cotton fabric at her thigh.

As different noises churned, her mind began to pick them apart – Faenaur, the snow under his hooves, the wind galloping over her head –,

A cry upon the wind broke her thoughts. But it was no human cry or that of any animal that Coruwen knew of. It resembled a wolf, but it was deeper.

The wind shivered sending a trill of nerves raced down Coruwen's spine. She forced Faenaur to wheel around and canter back up the gully's low stooping walls. The wind cried again with the howl, bringing a shiver to shake her. Once on top of a hill, her eyes scanned the rolling lands before her, but only caught the blue-white glimmer of ice. Anxiety made her heart twist when the wind suddenly came at her again with not a single note of the howl's song. With a click of her tongue, Faenaur leapt into a slow canter to guide her back to Imladris. She slid off of Faenaur's back, staggered barely a foot before fear forced her to tumble to the ground.

Coruwen's mind became a music box, replaying the dreadful, throaty howl over and over in her ears. She hung her head, letting her hair fall over her shoulders to create a curtain as to not allow anyone near her. But the thought was wasted when Faenaur nudged her head with his snout, and knocked her over into the biting snow. She yelped, standing with her hands clawing at her stallion's neck. His fur made her skin burn as it began to warm and it made her cringe before looking down at her hands. Red and trembling, they were. Her joints felt brittle when she tried to curl them around her horse's reins.

"Ai, what fool I am," Coruwen cursed quietly. Faenaur forced his muzzle into her hand, a silent reminder that he was there. Forever – until the end of his days – he would be persistent, she figured, scratching his ears.

~.~.~

The sun had set, coloring the sky in varying shades of gold, pink, and red as indigo curled its fingers around the lip of the heavens. Elegant shafts of waning sunlight sprawled their long fingers across a dress of violet with dancing chases of silver and a shawl of sheer fabric dotted with beaded flowers. Light tore at Coruwen's eyes as they flicked over a picture of flowering yarrow. She hissed like an angry cat. She rose from her desk and crossed the room to gaze up at the mountain horizon, the gold reflecting brightly on the swirling snow.

This year would be the first Coirë celebration she would spend without her family nearby, but a weak attempt at hope broke her homesickness. Did she not have the twins, Arwen, and Glorfindel? They were dear to her now, as dear as her own family. Her fingers grazed the frosty lace decorating the triangular shards of glass only for the lace to be torn asunder by her touch. With a final glance at the fading light of day, Coruwen started towards her washroom to bathe. The room was simple; a free-standing ivory tub sat beside a window that overlooked a set of twining waterfalls, and slick grey-veined marble was underfoot. The other side of the room held her vanity and wicker basket that held dirty clothes. Her hands found the spigots for the water and gave them a quick turn to let water flow. Coruwen's mind started to list out the items she would need soon, which made her stop and turn to each accordingly. _Dress, hair comb, slippers, and shift,_ she listed and chose to repeat it as she grabbed each item.

When she finally came to strip off her riding dress and settled into the ivory tub, her hands started to work out the snagged braids in her hair. Her hair seemed to enjoy snarling like horse hair. When she pulled one free from the back of her head, the other fell free and snarled around the spigot causing her to yelp… Rather loudly. Her whole body froze up when voices rose from the hall, all frantic. Reaching back, she unhooked her braid from around the spigot and then combed her fingers through her hair until it was seemingly smooth. If the voices belonged to Arwen or Elladan, then she misjudged time… She inwardly sighed; this was certainly not the first time she had lost track of time. She made to rise from the tub, but stopped when she heard her chamber door open quietly.

"Coruwen?"Arwen's voice enquired, voice tiny. The Lady Undomiel appeared from around the corner, her sections of her dark hair twisted back to resemble twisting ropes and a white stone pendant at her throat. She was a dress of soft green satin that was lightly embroidered with flowers in threading a tone lighter than her dress. Her grey eyes became curious as she approached Coruwen to kneel at her shoulder. Her voice came like a blunt blade, sharp enough to cut, but hardly deadly. "I hope you were not studying…"

Coruwen turned her gaze to the reflection in the bathwater, her hair wet but wild, and her face touched lightly by a –now faded - streak of ink. She tucked a snarled section behind her ear before turning her gaze up at Arwen. With heat rising to the back of her neck, she nodded. Arwen's lips quirked up in a tiny smirk and gave a wave a gentle tug.

"I do not blame you," Her friend murmured softly. She rose and crossed the room to the vanity, grabbed a comb and returned to her side to sit on the wide lip of the tub. When the teeth of the comb touched her scalp, the muscles in her shoulders twisted into knots. "I take it no one has combed your hair before?"

Coruwen shook her head, "My father used to when I was younger, but now… Now I do it," She admitted freely and nearly grimaced when Arwen pulled on a snarl, only for the lady to grumble and begin pulling it apart with her fingers. Her voice became tight when the snarl fought her friend's fingers. "Do you face such problems with your hair?"

Arwen sighed heavily, "Yes. You and I have similar hair, I am sad to admit. It enjoys snarling on anything it deems worthy." Above her, Coruwen heard a faint hum, only for it to be blocked out by a nasty surge of pain from the fine teeth of the comb. "My grandmother taught me from a young age to simply oil your hair and the snarls will come free… Let me try something."

Coruwen cocked an eyebrow, and turned over her shoulder to look at Arwen, who had found a vial of rose oil from her vanity. Often times she had forgotten that Celebrian, Arwen's mother, was the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn. Elrond had mentioned her once, but quickly had fallen somber in a few short moments. He said that Arwen looked like his mother and wife, and though his voice was clear in her mind; she could still see his grief stricken eyes. The thoughts sent a tiny lance of pain through her heart at the memory.

"The Lady Galadriel taught you this?" The lady nodded as she dabbed the oil onto her fingers and then they worked the tips of her hair. The scent of roses nearly smashed her in the face when Arwen flicked back different layers. Wet, scented hair stuck to her face and when she made to move them, Arwen maneuvered her hand away with a smooth flick.

"Are you nervous for later?" Arwen asked when she finished oiling Coruwen's hair. Before answering, she splashed water onto her face to remove the ink and whatever else she had smeared on her face while studying. All the while, Arwen watched intently as if she were a cat watching its fellow. She rose and took the towel her friend passed her to wrap herself in.

Coruwen sat at her vanity, "A tiny bit… I am more curious than one might expect." Arwen smiled, her grin turning almost devious. Coruwen turned a sour look on her. "Oh come now, why are you looking at me in such a way?"

"And I thought Glorfindel was more curious than an elfling," Coruwen ran her fingers through her hair, inhaling the perfumed rose scent of it. She swung her legs over the side, and started towards her room to find the shift that belonged with her dress. It was found lying beneath the violet dress and she pulled it on, delighting to feel the silk on her skin. Arwen's voice rose from the washroom. "I am glad he offered to take you to Coirë…"

Coruwen flattened the shift's beaded hem and swooping neckline. In that moment, a tiny question popped into her head for it had long since been bothering her, "Arwen, do you know anyone by the name of _Mithrandir?_"

"Gandalf?" Coruwen felt a pang of regret for not knowing, and it raked its claws across her heart once more at the look of curiosity Arwen transfixed on her. She willed herself into the washroom to sit at her vanity once more, her heart heavy.

"Who…Who is he?" She fashioned twists out of her hair to set upon the crown of her head that she held still with a cream comb engraved with a blooming lily.

Arwen appeared in her mirror, smiling. "He is an Istar, one of the Maiar sent from Aman to watch over Middle-earth. He is a part of the White Council like Glorfindel and my Adar." She frowned abruptly. "Why do you ask?"

Her stomach turned into a tight knot, her fingers tightening into the beading on her dress until they made imprints on her hands. Thankfully, Arwen did not take notice of her hands or her sudden quiet. She toyed with a few long waves, giving them a soft twist.

"Tis nothing. I thought I heard his name earlier, that is all." It was a lie, and yet not one at the same time. She _had_ heard Lindir say Mithrandir, she saw the man mentioned...

~.~.~

She was bothered by something, it was clear to him now. She had danced with him that night, the memory of her violet and silver skirts twirling around her made him smile. She had seemed like a golden star before him. Now, under a pane of moonlight, she seemed small; a faint candle flicker when compared to her earlier light. Glorfindel leaned forward to touch her shoulder, but hesitated. His hands burned with the desire to take her by the shoulders to startle her out of this strange haze. He had seen the light in her eyes the other day, and now… Now she seemed disturbed. Her eyes matched that of the sea with only the flicker of the moon to be had. His blood became ice in his veins when a cloud blocked out the moonlight in her eyes, which kept him in his spot. She leaned against a wooden balustrade, the sheer fabric on her arms glistening.

Her blue eyes found his, "Have I done something to provoke your stare?" Her voice was a stone. He started at her voice, blinking owlishly down at her. She quirked up an eyebrow at him when he did not answer. "You are not ill, are you?"

"No, no, my dear…" He answered quickly. He took in her features, noble and soft like those of his kindred, the Noldorin and Vanyarian. "I noticed you have become…Dour."

The darkness in her eyes faded as her fingers wound around the shawl at her elbows. She hesitated for a moment, her mouth opening slightly only for it to snap shut. He watched with intent, was it is she would tell him that bothered her so terribly? The shawl around her willowy frame slid a bit, her gaze falling on her slippers.

"My knowledge of this world and all of its greatness is small, Glorfindel."Her voice was a breath, and he was intended to catch it before it slipped away. Her hands rose from her sides and sought his own. With a strange kindled swiftness, his hands rose to take hers, finding them to be more delicate than he imagined, yet the tips were calloused. "I-I _saw_ something in a dream the other night…"

"Saw?" He echoed quietly as his thumb ran across her knuckles. Worry pricked at his heart for a moment. For as long as he had known many of his kindred, such a thought was nails dug into his palm sharply, making him wince. "What exactly did you see?"

"I saw a kingdom carved out of stone; it was beautiful – carved from silver-veined obsidian with large pillars that held up a lofty chamber… All of it, everything glittered like a jewel." She smiled brightly at the mention of the memory, but the smile faded quicker than he could take a breath. Coruwen's hand rose to her mouth with silvery tears beginning to pool at the edges of her eyes. There was a memory there, lingering like a ghost.

Nothing stopped him from reaching forward to rein her closer to him. Her back became a rod when she fitted against his side. He rested his chin on her golden tresses, catching the scent of roses before giving her hand a squeeze. She returned it weakly, which did not sate the concern that iced his blood. With the end of her sleeve, she wiped away the pooling tears that had formed, leaving shimmering streaks in its wake. If this continued, who was to say it would not have a bite worse than a wolf's? Deep within him, a part of him roared to tell her what plagued her. A sigh dared to escape him, but he snapped it back long before it could reach his lungs. He squeezed her hand again.

"My dear," Glorfindel began quietly to draw her attention upward. Her sky blue gaze met his, concern blazing within. "What you experienced was called foresight. Tis a gift amongst our kindred and ellith. However…."

"Tis more of a curse than blessing," It was not a question, and her tone told him as much. It was firm, unshakable. It was a tone that belonged to noble ladies, and it made a smile crease his face. "You possess it, Arwen possesses it, and now I possess it."

"You have always possessed it, my dear. You have never had anyone tell you what it is," He saw her blue eyes flick up to his where a protective ferocity began to grow. He reined in his urge to snatch back his hand. "Your father is a wise ellon when it comes to the world of the forests, but lacks in areas that are common amongst our kindred."

Ferocity gave away to curiosity. He saw the cords in her neck tighten as she took an uneasy breath. "You say _kindred_, what do you mean?"

His own words came back to bite him, hard. Elrond had told him to mind his words, but Valar - he let too much slip… He had taken to speaking with her since her arrival a few months prior, and it simply became easier and easier as time progressed. When she became his apprentice, speaking plainly with her gave away to habit.

He gave her a soft smile as he attempted to hide his mistake, "We are elves, dear. I-I had taken up speaking with Estel earlier and I used that word whilst being around him. Forgive me," Glorfindel bit the inside of his cheek when his sentence ended as Coruwen let his words sink in. A smile came to her face, soft and kind. "You should smile more, dear."

Her smile fell instantly to turn into a passive mask. She swatted his playfully on the arm, "Says the one who never stops."

"Oh, now I am to blame," He feigned hurt when she shot him a halfhearted glare. He stepped into her line of sight and she backed away like a frightened child, violet skirts nearly tripping her as her back met the balustrade. There was still darkness in her eyes that he did not wish to see any longer. He stood over her, watching her closely with a passive mask upon his face. She held his gaze with a will that was just as strong. _Noldorin pride,_ he laughed inwardly, _but there is Vanyarian in her… _When he knew her stare to be held firmly on his, he let his hands poke at her sides causing her to jump away from him with a shrill squeak. "Glorfindel!

He grinned and trailed after her, all the while keeping his hands clasped behind his back. And so he began his little game. She would keep her distance until his long strides found her and he would poke her side, sending her skittering away like a frightened maid. But that was not to say she caught on after a good long while. For at one point his hand snapped out and she caught it, her tiny hands quivering as they fought his strength. He pushed once and sent her skittering back, hair flying in her face and skirts swirling after her.

With forced evenness in her tone, she whispered, "What do you want of me?"

The maiden stepped forward, but he caught her wrist. With a scolding look, Glorfindel released her wrist, and she collided with his chest in a heavy thump. "I want you to tell me what bothers you, Coruwen."

The maiden backed away from him with eyes beginning to narrow. She was like a spooked animal, turning to run when something was brought up, but he would not let her. His hand shot out again to take her wrist.

"Glorfindel," She snapped, her gaze stern. "Let me go."

He used the same tone on her, low and stern. "Something has bothered you all night, and I want to know what it is." She was an unbroken horse in his grip, and he merely forced to set his heels to keep a hold of her. Her nails scratched at his blue robes until he had enough of her and caught her other wrist. He forced their gazes to meet. "Tell me… I beg it of you."

Her nails began to dig into his wrist as she fought his grip again. The fight had left her; all of it had passed out of her blood. Deciding it was safe to drop her wrists, he let his hands take hers. On his wrists, hot crescents of pain flourished, but it did not sate the bouncing questions that rattled in his head. What bothered her so that she would not tell him?

"It…It is nothing, this I swear to you, my lord." Her gaze was locked on their hands. In that moment, he remembered Elrond telling him to never push someone, tempting as it maybe. With a sigh and pain in his heart, he released Coruwen's hands. Silver chasings flickered out of his sight like twinkling stars until all he was left with was the sound of slippered feet softly padding away.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, more fun fact time. Yes, there are differing types of elves: and Coruwen and Glorfindel are both Noldorin and Vanyarian - though not related. Vanyarian are the fairest of the elves and their kind never left Valinor. Noldorin are common in Middle-Earth, and are considered the wisest and proud of the elves. _

_-If you want to follow me on Tumblr, look me up as flameangel24! _

_-As always, please leave a review and favorite, follow, and share with friends! _


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

_~The Night is Dark and Full of Terrors~_

A bang on her door awoke Coruwen with a start. Throwing back the coverlet, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed her robe off of a chair, her hands scrambling to throw it on as she pulled open her door. A fearful, glassy eyed Lindir stood in her doorway. He was pale, deathly pale, as though he had beheld a ghost.

"What is the meaning of this, Lindir?" Coruwen asked, forcing her tone to stay level. His hazel eyes watched her feet for a moment before she softly cleared her throat. "Lindir, I beg you, tell me what has warranted this."

Lindir nodded. His voice coming out a nervous whisper, "Lord Elrond has asked it of me to fetch you. Something… Something _awful_ has happened in the Healing Houses."

Coruwen let his words sink in for a moment. _Awful_ could mean a great deal of things… Her heart gave out a painful jolt as she took measure of Lindir's ghostly face and the grey-ish rings around his eyes. Without knowing, the lady's heart jumped in her chest as Arwen fled from her room behind Lindir.

Voice steeled, she spoke, "Tell Lord Elrond I will be there in a few moments." Lindir let out an exhale of breath than was akin to a sigh and spun on his heel, disappearing down the hall. She shut her door and scrambled to find a plain dress. Panic rushed at her – or was it fear? Either one was not welcome in her heart. It made her stumble as she tied her hair back with a strip of ribbon.

It was not long until she wound her way to the Houses of Healing in the dead of night. Twinkling silver stars studded a black, cloudy sky touched lightly by the reflecting moonlight that rebounded off of the high valley walls. But it was not the night that bothered her the most… It was the deadly silence that poured over Imladris that sent fear rocketing throughout her body. Coruwen figured it was the overbearing heat that her blood poured through her that drowned it out, but she was wrong. Fear had done it to the city, striking it down to nothing more than a muffled – almost nonexistent – murmur.

Upon reaching the houses, Coruwen nearly collided with an elleth that clutched bloodied bandages. As the door gulped air to shut, the metallic scent of blood tackled her, forcing her stomach to flip-flop. Swallowing the urge to retch, she found Elrond holding down a struggling ranger. Layers of boiled leather, chainmail, and linen peeled back to reveal a festering gaping wound on the man's side. She hung back to watch several other rangers hold their kin down as he writhed and howled in pain. He screamed with his back arched high off of the cot, fighting the five men and Elrond that held him still.

"Orc ambush," A voice said behind her. Gasping, she whirled around to face a face she had not seen in a long, long while. Dirty blonde hair clung to an oval, young face with eyes of hazel-green. He had a handsome face for one of the Edain. His garb was soaked through while one arm was slung in a sling and his face was streaked with dried blood. "So many are facing death…"

"Kain," She started, but winced as the ranger's scream pierced the air again. She winced. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the flicker of Glorfindel's hair. "Do you need anything before I sent off?"

Kain gave her a shake of his head, smiling lightly, "Oh no, I am fine currently, my lady."

Coruwen let herself smile despite the howls of broken and bloodied men that swarmed around her. She passed him and ran down the hall to catch Glorfindel as he divided out various items to other healers. Her hands wound around his arm, drawing his attention.

"What…? What has happened?" Coruwen asked, her voice stern. Glorfindel's royal blue eyes fell on the floor. Her heart lurched painfully, his hands toying with the loose tail of a thick strip of linen. He asked her to follow him as he started down a hall to a ranger in a cot. Nearing him, Coruwen watched his chest hitch in ragged breaths while his hands gripped the hilt of a sword of crude steel in his gut. There was blood, blood covering him in place of water. Her hands itched to reach out and touch him, to comfort him, yet there was nothing she knew she could do. The only comfort that could be given was death. She looked at Glorfindel, unshed tears beginning to sting her eyes.

She would not, she could not.

"Kain did not lie to you; there was an ambush near the Trollshaws," Her mentor began as the dying ranger sucked in a final gulp of air. Death's welcome arms took him in deft silence. The man's eyes fell into the world of the unseeing and unmoving. A sigh flew out of her, her chest quaking slightly. "An entire group of Dunedain – destroyed or poisoned."

_How could this happen? _Coruwen wanted to ask. She wanted to know what had done this. If the ambush came from the east – why had they surfaced suddenly? If they came from the cold north – what had stirred them? It never crossed her to think that something was _rising_, or _moving_ for that matter. In her mind, Glorfindel's words rattled – _an entire group of Dunedain – destroyed or poisoned. _

The words had little time to sink into her skin before a man's agonized scream broke the tension. Coruwen darted down the hall in a flurry of skirts that nearly tripped her until she came upon a fallen Dunedain archer, clutching an arrow shaft to his side. She hushed him and knelt down at his side, gently touching the thick shaft of wood with light fingertips. Yet the man howled in pain, feet scrambling to push himself away from her.

Coruwen turned back to Glorfindel with one hand holding onto the archer's trouser leg. "Find me an herb to calm him…" She instructed, turned back at the wound to catch the faint glimpse of festering pus. "And possibly athelas, if there is any to be had."

The resounding clicks of Glorfindel's boots alerted her to his departure to allow her look at the archer's side. The arrowhead was not visible, it had bitten into his flesh like a wolf's tooth and buried just as deep. However, the few times that she treated orc arrow wounds, they had been formed of a smaller wooden shaft, the fletching was not was bloodstained raven feathers, nor was there writing in the wood. The man shouted again when her fingers graced the fletching, she gripped his forearm.

"I beg of you, do not move or scream anymore… Soon, you will not remember any of this," Coruwen assured him. The wild, rampaging fear in his eyes dwindled down into a low banked flame at her words.

She offered him a small smile when Glorfindel's boots appeared in her peripheral vision. Coruwen ground Valerian root and poppy seeds together into a solution of sweetened wine that she gave to the archer before setting to work on smoothly removing the arrow embedded deep in his side. When she slightly pulled on it and the man winced, despite the herbs smothering effect on his consciousness. Narrowing her eyes, she touched the wound again – more wincing.

"If I may, dear," Glorfindel cut in. The hiss of a dirk being freed from its scabbard made the hairs on her neck stand on end only to be followed by a flash of silver, quicker than lightning. The thick, wooden shaft was split in two to leave only a tiny width left – no longer than the width of her palm – for her to grab a hold of. Coruwen bit the inside of her cheek until the sharp pain became numbing. Glorfindel's hand inched forward, took a hold of the arrow shaft, and started to pull. Coruwen placed her hand on his to aid him and after much fight; the arrow head came free of the archer's leg.

The archer, however, was only the herald to the storm that awaited them throughout the night. All through the night, Coruwen spent sewing gaping wounds closed, pouring boiled wine on festered ones, helped healers who required aid with raging patients, and setting broken bones. Yet still, there was death to be had. Many of the Dunedain passed away due to orc poisons or wounds that had not been cleaned properly. Coruwen's heart pumped ice into her blood at the whispers of different healers came, all telling of another ranger dying.

She chose to ignore them. They were like a lot of squabbling hens, whispering and gossiping in hisses that she could have sworn were like those of a snake. Her neck itched as the hisses went on and on. Finally, Coruwen decided to seek out another patient to staunch the whispers at her back. Curiosity struck her with its hammer when she saw a ranger lying on a cot in the light of a lantern.

From a distance, she could see the faint rise of his lungs drawing air and his ashen skin. She drew herself to his side, fingers flitting to his neck. A pulse leapt under her fingers, and she let out a sigh of relief. At least was not dead – yet. Her eyes scanned over his person – there were no visible tears or scratches on his person to them. As she began to move aside is gloves, his jaw tightened. Again, curiosity swiped at her. Curse her inability to stop this bloody idea!

Yet as sickly as this ranger appeared, he was far from it. His thick hands coiled around her wrists in a snap, his pale eyes flew open to throw her sideways. No scream flew from her lungs, not even a gasp; pure fear had stricken her mute until sharp pain hit her like a bludgeon in the back of her neck. Her heart jumped – he was shaking! His shoulders shook while hatred began to burn itself into his face. The pain in her neck forced her vision to be blurred, but through the fog she could see him.

His eyes found hers, and a shock of fear pooled ice in her stomach. Wild fear urged her to run; to find Glorfindel or Elladan – no, her body refused to budge. Why was it not fighting? Did it not wish to run as much as her wildly beating heart did? Coruwen's lungs constricted when the ranger knelt down to her level with pale eyes glittering. His callused hand snagged her jaw, jarring her teeth painfully while forced their eyes to meet. His eyes were a pale blue, like hoarfrost touching the sea. They were quite different from his scarred face. She held his gaze, but if she could kick him…

"Leitos!" Elrond's voice rang down the hall. The ranger released his grip and sent her back colliding with the wall behind her. Leitos moved aside as Glorfindel knelt before her, his fingers flitting nervously over her.

"Glorfindel, I am-," Coruwen's voice died on her tongue. Worry sparked in his eyes while he ran his hands over her upper arms. He pressed her against his chest to search her back. She knew that there would only be a bruise. Gently, he rested her back against the wall.

"Who is that?" The ranger demanded, gesturing towards her. "And why did she touch me?"

Glorfindel stood from his kneel, body stiff, yet smooth, like that of a predatory cat. At his side, his knuckles were turning pale. However, Lord Elrond raised a hand to cease her mentor's movements any further. He spoke in a clear voice that made her shiver, "She is my ward, Leitos. You had no right to attack her."

Slowly, the voices of the elf lords and the ranger died down into murmurs. There was a song that played in those who participated in battle that many called the blood-song. It turned cowards into heroes, heroes into kings, and kings into gods. It made them dance to a twisted song, one of metallic swords and bashing shields. The blood-song was a fearful song, yet so beautiful that even the dance dared to raise the dead and dance until all fell to their knees in defeat. The song had not left him, nor did it plan to.

Standing, Coruwen dusted off her rustled skirts to stand beside Glorfindel. The lord glanced down at her with concern lingering in his eyes. She smiled softly up at him, and then it faded into a firm line. On her wrists, the thick hands of Leitos left imprints that were not visible to anyone but her skin. No matter how hard she tried to forget them, they seemingly jumped back. She wrapped her fingers around one of her wrists as his touch surfaced again like a scar. The imprints leapt back, and how dearly she wished for them to be scrubbed away.

"Coruwen, Glorfindel – leave us," Elrond said, his voice tighter than a harp string. She took Glorfindel's offered hand and disappeared out of the sight of Elrond. Together with her mentor, they walked down a long corridor that once held Dunedain, bloodied and battered from battle. The thick scent coated the air like perfume, heavy and thick. Bile rose in the back of her throat, but she forced it down.

"Leitos did not hurt you, did he?" Glorfindel's low timbre broke the thick silence of the corridor. His voice was calm, yet touched by tension that tugged at her heart. He would have struck Leitos had Elrond not stopped him. He was an unsettled animal, his jaw and muscles were taut. If she could somehow ease the tension he faced… Well, it would certainly lighten the strain on her heart. When he spoke again, his voice was small, "Coruwen, my dear-."

"I am unscathed," Coruwen assured him, taking his hand in hers to give it a soft squeeze. His shoulders loosened in an instant. Her heart's ache lessened, but remained only a faded shadow. Why had he become so tense? Yes, he cared, but mayhap there was an underlying cause that she did not notice? She leaned against him, "But answer me something, my lord. Who is Leitos?"

"Right hand to the Head Ranger," Glorfindel growled, "Yet he thinks of himself a god." As he spoke, his hand tightened around hers, the swordsman strength he possessed cracking the over-used ligaments in her hands. Biting back a wince, she squeezed his hand back feebly.

"Coruwen, my dear, you saw how he looked at you. The disdain and utter arrogance in his eyes."

She regarded him beneath lowered lashes. "I did not see the latter, my lord. In its stead, I saw anger, wild and true anger. I have read about a song that poets often speak of called the blood-song. They say it rises in battle, like a throe of passion, and it takes people just as easy. In my eyes, I see the blood-song has not left Leitos…"

Glorfindel captured both her hands in his and grew silent, yet she knew he would not balk from such an outburst from that man. When he spoke again with a baleful voice, her heart shuddered, "Be as it may, Coruwen. What he did…" Her gaze rose to his face. The pain of the issue was deeply engraved in his features, forcing him silent. She wanted to reach out and embrace him, to comfort him. Would that be wrong?

Her mind snapped her out of her thoughts to watch his eyes shut for a brief moment, and he continued, "The poets and minstrels all speak of what they call the blood-song, yes. But I have lived through ages and wars, and I have felt that song sing through me. Tis no song, it is a fire, a poison as sweet as a siren song that drags a man into the gates of murder and iron. And it is a frightening thing."

In that moment, the anger died in his voice leaving only crippling fear for her to hear. Rarely did Glorfindel seem afraid, much less begging her to stay away from something. His words struck her like fist in her gut. Quietly, he shut his eyes with a bowed head.

What could she do for him? A thousand times it seemed he had helped her, comforted her, spoken to her, and without hesitation. Her heart threw itself against her ribs when she hesitated… She would mimic him, she told herself as she wiggled one of her hands free of his. Her hand cupped his cheek, forcing his eyes open and his body to become tense. Confusion flashed briefly in his eyes as she traced his cheekbone with her thumb, but faded.

It changed, morphing into a smothered happiness that she knew to be brewing in her heart as well. The lord's hand rose and pressed it firmly against his cheek as he shut his eyes again. The night had been dark, she knew, but it had not been as terrible as one might have thought.

~.~.~

"Whatever these orcs are hunting, I don't like it," Kain said, his dagger snapping free of his good hand. Silver twisted under the winter sun to embed itself in a tree. Coruwen pulled her needle through the dark fabric of Elladan's doublet while listening to Kain send his anger flying into the tree. There was no anger in Kain's voice, simply frustration that snapped coolly at the air. "They are not from these lands either… This could be unnerving to some."

Coruwen cocked an eyebrow at that, but kept her gaze focused on the slit Elladan had made in the green fabric. Orcs not from these lands meant… Other, unsettling things. Days had passed since the strange outburst in the night, and she was beginning to feel its repercussions. Her hands did not seem as though they matched her wrists, they felt slow, the muscles not moving as fast as one might have guessed. This feeling was all but familiar to her now, the feeling of lagging behind. Images of the mountain city rose in her mind, stone painted with black ink etched with a silver piece of stone.

Casting the city aside, she stole a glance up at Kain. He would have been chased by women in a village of Men, no doubt. The young man was sitting on a stone balustrade with his back leaned up against a nearby column and one leg draped over the edge like a lazy cat.

"Where do _you_ believe these orcs came from?" She asked, pulling the black thread through the thick fabric with a gentle tug. He shrugged, hopped down from his perch, and dragged his dagger from the wood. She smiled lightly, "Oh come now, Kain… You must have some reasoning."

He leapt back up to his perch, fingers toying with the slim dagger in his hand, "Think of me a fool, but I have a feeling these orcs came from Mount Gundabad in the far north…"

Despite her lack of knowledge of the world, she had read of the old Dwarven city. It was one of the places many believed where Durin the Deathless rose from in the very beginning. However, the dwarves of Durin's line could not keep a hold of that mountain and it fell to the orcs. A frown creased her lips at the thought of it – orcs running around the plains near Imladris from Gundabad seemed almost impossible…

Coruwen stuck the point of her needle into the doublet to lean forward and take in Kain's story. She knitted her fingers together to form a steeple that rested in her lap. "Gundabad - Why there out of all places? Would it not seem natural for orcs to be coming up from Moria, or across the mountains?"

A sigh escaped the young man, but he said nothing. Down her back, Coruwen felt an icy shiver pass. She was disquieted by Kain's silence. It was not as if it was true. The last time such a breed of orc surfaced was in the Second Age or earlier… Her hands trembled for a brief moment before she started to hem the doublet once more.

"They have made a strange breed of warg… It is emaciated and almost hairless with a bite that can fester quicker than some healers can fix. Many of my brothers fell to such bites the other night," Kain's dagger slammed into the column behind him, and Coruwen jumped a tiny bit. "And you saw the arrows and the blades. You saw how deep they cut and how much poison is laced upon them."

Coruwen shook her head, though not in disagreement but in disbelief. "I have dealt with arrow wounds and blade slashes since my first days as a healer, yet these were…These were truly terrible."

"I was nearly shot with one of those arrows…" Coruwen's attention snapped up, wide eyed. He fought to remove his dagger from the column and then tossed a smirk her way, "But I beg of you, do not tell the twins."

What an arrogant fool! Had he not been careful he would have ended up face down in the blood and dirt. Her tone dropped to one of scolding, "Tis bad enough that they worry over you like a pair of hens," His smirk widened to a grin. "Kain…"

"What?" The dagger sprung free and knocked the young man on his back. "I hardly feel anything, Coruwen."

"I know, but…" She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "We all worried when you fell unconscious because you fell from the back of your horse when you were in training."

"I understand your reasoning…" He leaned against the column and flipped the dagger high into the air only to catch it with the heel of his boot. Coruwen sighed quietly to herself as she began to fix the other tears in the doublet. Had the twins not been as vigilant as they always were who knows what could have befallen Arwen or herself. Arwen's guards that led them from Lothlórien to Imladris were especially protective and easily startled. Her needle bit her finger and drew her from her thoughts to hear a loud curse. Her gaze corkscrewed back to the twins. Elladan stood over his brother, who had tripped and fallen onto his bad leg.

"What are you two doing?" Coruwen's voice rose to a near shout as she set aside her sewing to help Elrohir. Velvet skirts rustled around her until she came to a stop above the fallen twin. She extended a hand to him to help him rise, but he held up a hand in refusal.

"El thinks he can walk, but I am starting to think otherwise," Elladan said, obviousness touching his voice. Elrohir glowered up at him nonetheless, his glare darker than pitch. "You know, I could roll you."

"Valar, no. Leave me be," Elrohir snapped and he rolled onto his good knee and braced himself with a nearby column. Coruwen felt a strong urge to scold him, but knew it would fall on deaf ears. Elrohir was only like his brother in this one aspect, when they both did something; they did it by themselves even if it warranted injury.

"Heavens you are stubborn… Maybe I should find Adar so he can make you stay put, El," His twin stalked past him and took Coruwen's hand.

"Or maybe you should keep your trap shut."

He squeezed her hand, "Or maybe… I have an elleth that can _make_ you stay still better than Adar."

Coruwen sighed, annoyed, flicking her gaze up to Elladan. His grey eyes sparked with mischief, but she turned a stern look on him and it died. The fear that they possessed with Arwen had begun to rub off when she glared at them. Whether or not this was necessarily a pleasant idea was unclear to her. The twins were both ready to leap at the chance to snag the other down. They were like pups, biting and gnawing the other, despite their love for the other.

"I could merely find Lord Elrond, my lord," Kain piped behind them.

"Ah, Kain, I see you are unhurt." The twin in question said with a smile. That was, until Kain shifted his arm around and his sling poked over his shoulder like a giggling child. Elladan's smile died and he approached the man curiously. "Valar spare you from yourself, you idiot."

Coruwen smiled ruefully, "No one can _truly_ save him from himself."

Moving towards Elrohir, she took up his freed arm to balance him. With each step he took, he limped, which made her own leg slightly ache. Over the past few weeks, his ability to lean on people had lessened as well, and his temper had gotten the better of him a few times. She settled him beside her on the bench before sitting and started hemming one of Kain's leather gauntlets. It was stiff to handle, and the needle often fought it. It reminded her of mending skin or cutting it away.

"Might I assume that either of you heard about Leitos being expelled from the Head Ranger's side?" Elladan enquired. Coruwen dared to look up, but a sudden rush of swirling colors made her stomach roil. She swallowed the bile, taking a deep breath. Kain let out an amused scoff followed by the thud of his dagger coming in contact with the wooden column. "Think what you will, Kain…"

"You sound like an old woman, Elladan," The man teased as his dagger sprung free again and nearly whacked the standing twin in the face. "Leitos was a good man around the Head Ranger."

"Elladan, stop," Coruwen heard Elrohir mutter lowly. Her fingers opened the old seams of the gauntlet with a crack. It was not surprising to hear about Leitos once again. Elrond had been rather furious with the man after he had attacked her.

"Apparently, he did something to upset Adar." Elladan's boot tapped against the stone. "What it was… Well, Glorfindel did not tell me."

She secretly thanked Glorfindel for not telling them, for if he had, who knows what the twins could be doing to her currently. Yes, they fretted, and they were concerned about her but Glorfindel easily had taken up such a post. Worry spread in her heart like wildfire until her fingers came to a stop in their work. The roaring darkness raised its head from the back of her mind, she nearly winced. Wondering if the darkness and the sudden rush of orc packs correlated at all, she stood and walked off in search of Glorfindel. Elrohir called after her, but it did not stop her.

Coruwen wandered throughout various corridors, listening. She hoped to hear the low timbre of her lord's voice or possibly Erestor – heavens, even Elrond! The mountain city had long since been on her mind and she wanted to be free of its memory. The reminder that the darkness had sat above her and nearly swallowed her was not sating anything anymore. She needed an explanation or an idea on what it meant… Like a breath against one's skin, she heard Glorfindel's voice telling her that ellith possessed foresight in varying degrees. If she was graced with foresight, then… Then the vision meant something far more than she was grasping. Half a candle mark had passed without a single sign of either of the ellyn.

Against better judgment, she snuck into Erestor's library, ignoring the meows of his feline companion on the table. It was common knowledge in Imladris that Erestor never left the confines of his library for more than an hour unless there was a council. Her fingers swept through her hair, waves tangling on her fingers. The cat on the table padded over to her and began to rub its face on her hip.

"No," Coruwen scolded softly, pushing its angular head away. Wide, green eyes stared up at her, pleading for her to rub its little face. This cat was worse than Faenaur in its ability to charm people. "Fine, if it will keep you busy." She scooped up the cat, rubbing its ears in between her fingers as she walked around in search of Erestor.

"And what are you doing with my cat?" A cool voice asked, nearly making her drop the cat cradled in her arms. Hazel eyes watched her from a secluded window seat, forcing shivers down her body. The cat squirmed and leapt out of her arms to the floor and over the figure in the window. "Moreover, Lady Coruwen, what are you doing in my library?"

A bundle of nerves forced the words to die on her tongue. She lowered her gaze to the floor, coming to clasp her hands behind her back. It was no easy task speaking with Erestor… But he was the only one she could find at the moment. Her heart fluttered in her chest, forcing it to her throat. Erestor rose from his spot, cradling his companion in his arms without ever making a sound.

"Come now, dear lady…." He started, stalking closer to her. "There is no reason for you to be shy."

Her voice came back as a flood, washing over her mind like parched earth. "I am wondering if you knew anything about mountain cities… Or rather if you knew a great deal about foresight."

Erestor was an ellon gifted with a thin face and long dark hair, similar to Elrond's, but often times it was held back in a low horsetail. His eyes watched her closely, as though she were something alien. One of his bony hands snaked from beneath burgundy sleeves to stroke the cat in his arms. She could almost see the gears in his turning, contemplating, and assessing her words.

"I could not find Lord Glorfindel-," He held up a hand to stop her and her mouth snapped shut. He walked past her to a shelf with fingers beginning to skim the differing binds of leather and cloth.

"I understand why you sought me out, Lady Coruwen. Certainly, Glorfindel would not have told you much, and in the end, you two would have ended up in my presence." There was a cold bite to his words that made her cringe. "However… I am glad you came to me before him… I do not have to deal with him this way." He set the cat down and withdrew a tattered tome from the topmost shelf. "Now tell me what it is you saw…"

Coruwen sat in the desk chair, folded her hands in her lap and began to tell Erestor of the supposed vision she was graced with many nights ago. The lord listened, but would occasionally turn and grab another book off of the shelf and place it in the beginnings of a pile. But that was not what bothered Coruwen when she spoke of the city and darkness – it was Erestor's morphing expression in his eyes. They had started as curious but slowly they darkened with suspicion. As the memory of the vision died on her tongue, Erestor came to sit across from her with knitted fingers.

"I know such a tale sounds…Unreal," Coruwen whispered, her voice becoming choked out by a rising wave of inward grief and illness. Her arms wound around her sides and she curled in on herself to quell it, but to no avail. The feeling rolled under her skin and in her stomach.

"I have not heard of one of Glorfindel's kindred being touched by such a… Odd memory," Erestor replied as he drew close a silver chased leather book with runes racing up the spine. He opened it and began flipped through it. She sat forward to try and read with him, "I do not know what the darkness meant, but I do know what city you saw, my lady."

Coruwen's eyebrow shot up when Erestor hefted the book into his hands, pausing on a certain page. She nearly jumped back in surprise when he handed the book to her. Before her was an inked drawing of a high gate topped arching windows with long ribbons of silk drooping down low like long ears. On each side of the gate were warriors formed of stone kneeling, both garbed in scaled armor and helms with double bladed axes in their hands.

"This place seems to be of dwarfish make," Coruwen commented without a second thought. Inwardly, she clapped a hand over her mouth for lacking thought before speaking. Erestor made it no mind, thankfully.

Erestor tapped the gate with a bony finger, "Tis known by our people as Erebor, or The Lonely Mountain. It is the place of the king of the dwarves, of Durin's folk as the dwarves would say. Erebor was a great city, a stronghold in the east with two cities at her base. Ered Mithrin, The Iron Hills, Ered Luin, and possibly Moria are all that is left of the great Dwarven kingdoms."

Coruwen frowned, leaning back in the chair after she had returned Erestor's book. "Then why did… Why did it look abandoned? If it was such a great city, then why would they leave it?"

"There is a dragon beneath those halls, one that came from the Withered Heath, the birthplace of dragons. I do not know what drew that dragon there, but it forced the dwarves of Erebor from her halls and destroyed the city of Dale." The lord sighed heavily, "As to why you saw it, my lady, I do not know… And possibly, you and I will _never_ know."

* * *

_A/n: Soo, I'm snowed in at my house.. So, since I am in the situation I'm in, I come bearing a new chapter! Yay! If you guys want to follow me on tumblr, please look me up as flameangel24! I am always up for questions or other little things you all wish to add. _

_(Don't quote me on the dwarf kingdoms thing, I could be_ _very __wrong. Knowing me, I am fifty fifty.) _

_As always, please review, favorite, and follow if you liked this! _

_Until nest time, _

_-Angel _


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

_~Not Today~_

Coruwen fell silent for a long while, stroking the cat in her lap while Erestor put his books back on their lofty shelves. She had been seeing a kingdom – a lost, kingdom of Aulë's children. A dragon had taken it from them, a beast that was told to children to keep them in line. Images of the quiet obsidian halls flickered in her mind and she twirled the whiskers of the cat in thought.

"I forgot to mention," She glanced up at him. His eyes sparked mild internet for a brief moment, "Foresight is never certain and should not be taken to heart. It more than likely means nothing."

_Why would it show a dwarf kingdom?_ She wanted to ask him, but chastised herself that asking it would seem ignorant. If it was not certain, there was little sense in arguing ages of recorded knowledge upon the matter. Coruwen ran her hand down the cat's back before she set it down and stood. She thanked Erestor for what help he could provide and left the library. Worry twisted in her gut painfully. Questions boiled up in her mind, but she shut out them out to stop the sickening flow of concern. But they never stopped their whispering! They continued and continued until she swore her sanity began to slip.

She managed to force the whispers back more and more until they were nothing more than voices on the wind – dying and inaudible. It was odd to her that her mind had chosen such a place at random…

Or was it intentional?

Coruwen shook her head inwardly – how could _that_ be if she had never left the confines of Imladris or Lothlórien? She returned to her rooms and sat on the edge of her bed to cradle her head in her hands. Through her thick hair she could feel the ligaments shaking. She felt adrift in a sea. What with the ever growing count of dead and then the truth of her vision – a swell of constriction coiled in her chest. And it built and built until it dared to burst like a floodgate.

~.~.~

Months passed without the slightest breath of a vision. Seasons drifted in and out like receding tides, time seemingly running at a fast whirl around her. Snow gave away to green fields and new life – blundering to take its first steps as a being. Her time trying to figure out the vision wasted away into a mute corpse when spring leapt at Imladris. And it withered into a husk when summer burst forth. However, summer was far from calm….

Towards the end of summer, Kain and his Dunedain troop rode off north in search of the possible orc packs that had abruptly disappeared sometime during the beginning of the month. Arwen had returned to Lothlórien to visit her grandparents…. But Coruwen had not followed her friend back to her home. She feared lingering too long, that seeing Haldir and her uncles would spur long-forgotten emotions up inside of her that would freeze her there.

"You think too much," Elladan chided behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at him, sighed, and returned her gaze to the crimson and magenta sky that threw its flamboyant frock over the crown of the Misty Mountains. "May I ask why you think too much?"

"To compensate for you and your lack of it," Coruwen said archly, smirking as Elladan's boots suddenly slammed onto the marble. It tickled her heart to hear him befuddled.

"I do too think!" He gripped her wrist and spun her so she could look at him. His eyes were sharp and colored like pure steel. His eyes were not as beautiful as others she had seen. Glorfindel's were far more striking, "I merely do not think as much as you or Erestor."

"My exact point," She smiled foxily for a moment before slipping her wrists free of his hands. "Now I must ask _you_ a question."

He cocked his head to the side like a curious bird, and she giggled. It never crossed her mind that she would be left with him, considering the twins were almost always within hearing distance of the other one. He gave her a gesture to continue.

"If you were your father, would you have tested me all ready?"

"Oh, we are back to this bloody subject," He sighed heavily, "I do not know what Adar thinks most of the time. Elrohir would be the better candidate for this enquiry. Why?"

Coruwen knitted her fingers in front of her, and pulled her braid over her shoulder to play with the long stretch of ribbon she had plaited with it. "Merely, curious…"

"When are you not?"

"When I sleep…?" She let out a huff of laughter – quiet and nervous to her own ears. Elladan deftly reached out and stalled her nervous hands. "I apologize they often act upon their own accord."

Elladan shook his head before lightly tapping her on the nose with his finger and offering his arm to her. She hesitated before she took it, her eyes doing a once-over his person. He led her to an outlook that stared into the open mouth of the valley. The sun barely dipped out of view over the climbing, grey-blue spires in the distance. The golden light wove delicate ribbons into the Bruinen while other painted strange shadows on the walls of the valley. Coruwen remembered seeing the churning, snorting horses of the Dunedain leave through that passage, varying voices of young and elder below rising to breech the sky like the music of a horn. They had been rallying north to the mountain to range and snuff out the orc packs as though they were a group of hunting hounds. Kain had told her that he had finally convinced the Head Ranger to find the orcs. However, which way Kain went about it was another story. Her kindred had not approved of the rangers departing in the slightest, but there was no stopping them once the Head Ranger gave the order. A sigh left her lips, and her mind could faintly picture Elrohir and Kain.

"I miss them as well," Elladan murmured, his grey eyes fixated upon the whirling sky. She stole a glance up at him, but quickly turned it back to the entrance. "I miss Elrohir, he is my twin, we came into this world together and without him…. Well without him the world seems a tad too quiet."

Grief slapped her in the face, hard, forcing her eyes to screw shut. Shadowed light touched her face, and the wind carded its fingers through her hair. The world was trying to comfort them, it seemed. Try as it might, there was little comfort that they took. Coruwen opened her eyes; the light burned until she forced her eyes over to Elladan. Shadows played on the sharp features of his face to make him appear as if the grief in his heart never showed. But when he turned his face toward her and the grief raised its head in his grey eyes. It reminded her of the sea that tumbled within her, it knew not where it flooded and ceased; no it only knew that it could destroy.

She reached up and pressed her hand to the line of his jaw, fingers slightly sprawled on his throat. Elladan exhaled quietly, leaning into her touch a tiny bit. Coruwen spoke up when he screwed his eyes shut, "He will come back. In time, all things return to where their home is."

The son of Elrond managed a miniscule nod. She ran her thumb across his jaw to feel the iron-like tension there. The sea of grief knitted its strong fingers across her heart and pulled, daring to knock her world from under her. But she refused; she refused to let it consume her with Elladan present. Grief had taken him as it was, and it would not help him if she started to lose herself.

"You shake, Coruwen," He stated after a few moments. A start rattled through her like lightning at his voice. Slowly, her eyes rose to his face. The only change that she noticed was his eyes; they were halfway open. They were storm clouds, every emotions languidly brewing deep within them. She had barely noticed the tremors that vibrated in her hands. Elladan's voice was a rasp when it surfaced once more. "Tell me what you fear?"

It was a question, not a statement… Her hand fell from his jaw to clasp her other hand in a vice. Her mind recalled Kain riding off with his kin, their voices a growing tide below. It went further than that though… It went back to the mere inkling of her test.

~.~.~

_It stared him in the face with a face darker than sin. Though it seemed fairly harmless, he knew it to be glowering up at him. He turned his gaze on his lord. _

"_You are sure that she will be able to handle this?" He asked archly. His companion smirked and his lord smiled softly. There was a deep uncertainty there… "I am not approving of your faces." _

"_Are you questioning our teachings?" _

~.~.~

"You and I are of a mind that seems to believe that the Dunedain will return to us dotted with arrows or hacked to pieces. It bothers me to no end that Elrohir left with them to hunt orcs that killed a maddening number of Dunedain." She explained quietly. Her fingers screamed at her to stop tightening, but she could not hear them any longer. "Kain believed them to be Gundabad orcs-,"

"Those are descended from those in the old fortress of Angband," Elladan finished for her. She fixed a half hearted glare at him.

"If they are what Kain believes them to be, then they have sentenced themselves to death." She returned, her voice that only the dead would understand. Elladan cleared his throat softly and took her hands with his, gently prying loose the tangled knot her fingers had made. "I hope the Head Ranger is as wise as Kain and the others make him out to be."

"I have only met the man once or twice, so I cannot say what he is like. He was certainly wise enough to banish Leitos from his side," Elladan finally clasped her hands in his. They were hardly as calloused as Glorfindel's hands, nor as slender, but rather they were the beginning spark of a warrior's hands. When Elladan dared to open his mouth to speak, he tore his gaze from her to gaze up at a winding walkway decorated in blooming flowers. "Lindir, you may approach us."

Lindir swept into her vision, robes chasing after him like a child. However there was something unsettling in the singer's eyes that was deadlier than poison. He shifted uneasily from side to side. The wind stopped its unfruitful efforts in comfort in that moment.

Lindir looked between the two of them, swallowed, and then spoke, "Lord Elrond has summoned the both of you to the Houses of Healing." His voice broke for a second, and he cleared his throat, "Lord Glorfindel has fallen ill."

Coruwen felt as though she suddenly swallowed her tongue. Had it not been for Elladan's grip on her hands, she would have hugged her sides as a sickness roiled in her stomach. He regarded her mutely, but his hands clasped hers in a deadly grip. Her heart lurched in her chest while Lindir's words bit at her soul. She was a fool for allowing such a feeling to stab at her!

She slipped her hands free of Elladan's to fist the bell sleeves of her dress. She would not allow this feeling to nag at her. Quietly, she approached Lindir and gave him a gesture lead her. Behind her, Elladan called after her though she never heard it; every sound and voice was muffled. As though wool had been bound around her senses, she walked in tense silence.

It was not until Lindir had led her to the entrance of the room that her mind suddenly caught her. The room was decorated in varying shades of gold, red, and pink. The light had splintered upon the form of Glorfindel. His hair was fanned around his head; the sheets that covered him clung to him with only a small section thrown back on his left side. Her mentor bit back a hiss when she hurried to his side and pressed a hand to his brow.

Glorfindel's hand bumped hers; she looked up at his face. A skeleton looked far spryer than he in that moment. Coruwen's thumb ran along his hairline in an attempt to soothe him. "You must…" His voice was a breath. The words became a raspy mantra until they faded out of her hearing.

Her hands sought his side to a strange section of muscle and skin near his ribcage. It had turned an odd color; a shade that lay between ghost white and grey. Underneath loose linen she found a tiny cut, no wider than that of a ribbon and no longer than a hairpin. A red flower bloomed there, piped in black. The skin around the cut was grey-ish white with veins of black. It climbed like ivy throughout his system to strangle him.

"What happened?" Elladan's voice asked from the doorway. She did not look up at him. No, she could not at this moment. Her mind busied itself with riffling through differing root problems that presented themselves in such a way. Black edges meant that the flesh was dead – but what could have festered so rapidly? Her fingers touched the area around the cut and Glorfindel's hand curled into the linen below.

"Elladan," Elrond's voice said, muffled.

Coruwen reached out and took the lord's hand, letting him nearly crack her hand with his own. Let him break it, if it would spare him. She bit the inside of her cheek until his grip loosened. Her eyes gathered what they could of the injury. Her mind pieced together that the cut was too clean to be made by orc blades. Whatever came from such a wound, she had to be quick.

~.~.~

Elladan watched from the doorway, slumped against the frame with his head up against the wood to watch her. Father watched her with a pleased look in his eye; it reminded him of a cat. Erestor's cats would often look at him in such a way, pleased that he was petting them and giving them attention. Perhaps Father was _truly_ pleased with such a display from Coruwen.

She had learned a trick or two that Elladan knew Father had taught her. She knew herbs by their appearance, and the quick snippets speech she soothed Glorfindel with. He crossed his arms over his chest as she swept back her wavy hair from her face. She was running out of ideas, he knew it.

Father tossed a look down at him and then gestured to the hall. He rolled onto his feet while Father swept out of the room. Elladan heard Coruwen's calm voice slowly slip out of his hearing when his lord father stopped abruptly.

"I take it you know what I placed on the cut?" Father asked. His eyes widened in shock. "Yes, I cut him. Tis for an experiment."

Elladan groaned, shook his head. "Ada, please tell me this is her test?"

"Yes, it is… And the poison I used is one she should know how to counter," Father told him. He opened his mouth, but Father beat him to the words he wanted to say. Or rather, he never said a word; he merely lifted a vial of clear liquid from beneath his doublet. The vial was awfully tiny…. "The poison once used by the Angband orcs can never be made again, but Erestor managed to find herbs that could have… less painful effects."

"Less?" He swallowed thickly. "Pray, why are you telling me this, Ada?"

Father smoothly pulled back the collar of his doublet and removed the vial from round his neck. It shimmered in his palm like a tiny star, and Elladan barely caught the gesture for him to take it. When he took it and slipped it around his neck, Father fixed his collar to hide the silver chain. The urge to swat away his father's hands was quite strong, but he knew it to be futile to fight him. Eventually, Father would outwit him and fix it otherwise.

"Coruwen needs to learn, and learn she shall." Elrond said quietly. Elladan nodded a tiny bit, quietly listening for her voice. "Now, go back and sit."

"Where are you off to?"

Elrond sighed, "Gandalf."

Elladan groaned and stalked off to sit back in the doorway of Glorfindel's room. He did not need more of an explanation. But when he saw Coruwen bent over Glorfindel's head with a hand pressed to his ribs while the other stroked his hair. Her face was devoid of all color, and her lips moved as though she spoke. He mutely slid to the floor with the doorframe bracing his back while he strained to listen to her. A whisper prodded his hearing, and he tipped his head toward her.

Her blue eyes landed on him for a brief moment and she shot up, gold hair flying around her face. "Elladan," Her voice crackled. Her face reminded him of a wild cat while her hair made him think of a horse's unkempt mane. She spoke again, her voice breaking like glass underfoot, "It would be best if you left… I have done all I can."

Elladan shook his head, "I will stay so long as you do. If he suddenly wants to struggle-,"

"_Elladan_," There was a sudden snap to her voice that made him flinch. It was like hearing his grandmother chide him. When he opened his eyes, he saw her shoulders shaking while her head was bowed. Guilt stabbed him in the ribs like a knife. "Please… Leave."

"I cannot do that, Coruwen," Elladan replied firmly. He had to stay for Father's sake until he returned. She cast her gaze upward to the window that was clouded over by night's shroud. With a deft rise, she walked up the pane of flawless glass and pressed her hand against it. He stood and inched into the room more. "Why do you not wish for me to be present?"

She said nothing, turned her head slightly, and cast him a tired glance. Her hand slid from the glass with an odd squeal as it fell back to her side, her sleeve hiding her fingertips. Her shoulders slumped more as she returned to Glorfindel's side. To him, it was like looking at a hurt predator. It wanted to fight more, but it could no longer. It was merely lying there and taking in the logic of what had gone on.

"Is he asleep?" Elladan whispered, approaching her slowly. Coruwen's sky blue eyes turned on him, clouded.

She nodded, "Yes."

"What do you think occurred?" He knew that answer, Father had nicked the golden lord with a poisoned knife. He saw her fingers absently play with Glorfindel's hair. Perhaps he had never noticed it before, but their hair looked very different to one's eyes especially in the dwindling light of day. He found himself staring, trying to keep back the urge to think aloud.

"I know it to be poison," Coruwen moved over to a chair, knitting her fingers together in a steeple. "I have flushed the wound, cut away the dead flesh, and packed it with herbs that will draw the poison from his blood."

Elladan nearly shuddered. He had dealt with inflicting harm on a creature – taken many cuts as well – but he never thought of having to handle the repercussions. He admired healers such as Father and Coruwen, who could handle the stress of it all. He thought that once it would have been easier if everyone was a warrior. Mother and Grandmother told him that if it were that way, life would not be interesting.

"Does any of the pain linger?" He finally asked, curious.

Coruwen stared at Glorfindel's hand and shrugged. "If it does, he is caught unaware by it. I would not have been able to soothe him without the pieces of knowledge your lord father taught me."

He crept closer, closer, secretly hoping that by a stroke of luck her anger would not flare again. She was staring at the lord's hand in the silent hope it might move.

"Could he die?" The question floated in the room for a brief moment. Tension sunk its terrible teeth into the question and _tore_. In a flick quicker than a whip, she was glaring up at him with a seething anger. He spoke again with a tone that not unkindly, "Death is no surprise to you, is it?"

"Hardly," Her voice was a glacier. He treaded too close to danger. Elladan's mind stepped back when the anger started kindle again in her eyes. "It would be more of a surprise to me if he suddenly awakened without at least becoming feverish."

His curiosity struck, "Does it always happen in such a fashion?"

"Not always… There have been a few rare times that the poison merely bled out when I cut out the dead flesh." She gave him a languid flick of her wrist. "Granted, the person was of Dunedain descent, and they are stouter than say the men of Rhun?"

His brow rose at her words. "Did… Where ever did you learn that?"

"My old teacher told me when a Dunedain came to us in Lothlórien. He nearly died," The iciness slowly, but surely, melted from her voice. A thankful bubble rose in his chest. Elrohir would be proud of him for stilling his tongue. "You should leave, Elladan. He will not stir for a long while now."

_But shall you leave as well? _The question rose in his mind, but he kept his tongue from releasing it. The vial at his chest suddenly burned icily, his hand rose to it. All the while, Coruwen gazed at him with mild curiosity. His mind screamed at him to look at her instead of fooling around with the bloody vial at his chest, but his fingers sought it with a mind of their own.

All at once her hands pressed against his and pushed gently. He nearly stumbled, but caught himself quickly. "Go," she whispered with a voice full of steel. In that moment, he did as he was bade and stalked off to find Father.

~.~.~

She never left him. Coruwen had never had the inkling to leave his side in the slightest. For four days and four nights, she had tended to him and listened to his murmurs. It was only until recently that Glorfindel had surfaced to listen to the world that galloped past him.

Coruwen stabbed at her sewing, fingers numb to the bones underneath. Jabbing the needle into the linen, she gazed down at her hands. Pale skin stretched over skeleton like ligaments, or so she believed. They had slipped in the past few days, and she was no longer going to fight the uncomfortable feeling of a slithering snake under her skin. She folded the linen into a square before clapping her hands together in a prayer like fashion in her lap.

Quietly, Coruwen gazed over to Glorfindel. He was curled up on his side with his back entirely to her. His skin had gained some of its color back when the shallowness of his breath subsided. She could trace faint scars on his back, each a scratch of white-silver that could have been invisible to her had the light been playing across it. The urge to trace them with her fingers nagged at her, but she refused to rise to the bait. It was enough that she had toyed with his hair a few days prior…

Inhaling, she sat back in her chair and began to hum under her breath a song that Kain had sung many a time in her presence. Coruwen ducked her head, her gold hair curtaining around her hands and directing her song to her lap. The song reminded her of the Dunedain that had ridden off north.

"You should simply sing it," Glorfindel's voice broke her thoughts in an instant. She was thrown to her feet when their gazes locked and she moved quicker than she blinked. The lord laid on his side still, but his head was turned back to look at her. He smiled as she sat at his side. "I suspect you never left me?"

The heat of embarrassment warmed her cheeks and he chuckled quietly. "You are lucky to be alive." She managed when her fingers reached down to the wound at his ribs. He caught them before they could move. Her eyes slanted up at him before he released them and allowed her to look at the area surrounding his wound. The grey had melted out of his skin thankfully. "You were paler than the moon…"

"I had an excellent healer," He murmured. She could hear the smile in his voice. Coruwen continued to check the wound, removed the old bandage and replaced it without a word. "You did well."

She paused midway when she wrapped his ribcage. Had she heard him correctly? _She did well? _Those were his words, there was no denying it. As she wrapped the bandage the rest of the way, she felt her heart begin to twist in anxiety. He winced when she tightened the linen - why had he said that?

Aloud, she asked, "Whatever do you mean?"

His hand pressed against the top of her head, "You did well… You cured me."

Her back straightened more in that moment to fix him with a confused look. Breath was kicked out of her in that moment as he pressed a hand to the wound at his side. "I-I do not-,"

His gaze was kind, a simple kindness that spoke far more than what she perceived. She blinked owlishly and then stared at her hands. "Coruwen-,"

He barely had a second to speak before she interrupted him. "You almost _died_," The steel she had used several days ago with Elladan swung back to rear its ugly head. She forced down the urge to yell, for her father had taught her to never yell – it was unbecoming. "If I had missed something, had I not known what I was undertaking? Y-You could have died and I would have had to take the fall for such a grievance."

Glorfindel smiled, "Or perhaps I hung on knowing that I could tell Mandos to walk away from me once again…" An easy smile lit his eyes and his mouth. "After all, Coruwen, I have faced that Vala before and he released me. Ever since then, if I come within death's grace I will always tell myself one thing. One statement that I hope you remember."

She cocked her head to the side. A gesture to move on with his speech, "Not today, nor ever."

"Not today, nor ever?" She echoed. He nodded and then winced when he moved. With gentle hands, she helped him lie back down. But deep within her mind, she was lost in thought. _Not today, nor ever, _the words became a chant in her mind as they clung to her to remember. Coruwen would remember, even if she chose not to remember the words, they would cling to her.

* * *

_A/N: Small A song of Ice and Fire reference here. But, chapters should be coming out steadily for a little bit on this one because I have a wrist support now so my tendinitis shouldn't flare as badly.. Hopefully, really hoping, it's a small wish. _

_To WolvesKey and Aralinn - You two made my day yesterday. The words you two said, just... They were wonderful. Thank you, so much. :) _

_To ro781727 - the answer to your question is in about two chapter I'd say after this one. We have a few more things to address before we go running off into the wild, Tolkien yonder. :) The third chapter after this will start to walk into the world of the Hobbit plot. I hope to hear from you again!_

_If some of you want to follow me on tumblr, look me up as flameangel24! I gladly take questions, facts, or just someone saying hi! _

_As always, please review, favorite, and follow if you liked this chapter! _

_Until next time, _

_-Angel _


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

_~Snow~_

Rain spilled down crystalline triangles of glass in the form of tears. The sky wept for a reason unknown to her and the others. It had been raining in mixed intervals for three days; the world was only a bleak, grey churning maelstrom that wept heavily over the world. Erestor's cat watched the long rivulets of water stream down the panes in the library like she would a mouse. Coruwen let herself smile at the cat, who had been her companion when Elladan abandoned her to seek out Lord Elrond. The cat was small, but slight of frame like a twig.

"_I named her Aiwë, or little bird," _Coruwen recalled Erestor telling her. Yes, Aiwë meant little bird in the tongue of the elves of Aman – she learned. The word felt _familiar_ to her, like a mother's song. It was a faint idea, but she did not dwell on it. As if hearing her thoughts, Aiwë turned and mewed at her with peridot eyes shining at her.

Coruwen giggled, motioned for Aiwë to come to her, and turned her attention back to the book she held in her lap. She had taken up reading about the earlier ages of Arnor since her test. The book spoke of skin-changers – who she believed to be a child's story until now – and vampire bats, a serpent or two, and even the greatness calamity that struck the early ages; Ancalagon the Black. Someone had taken time to draw the great fire-drake as well.

The picture consisted of charcoal, red and orange ink and a bone white paint that she saw in the Erebor drawing as well. The dragon was tall and broad shouldered, with a form that she assumed could blot out the sun. His wings were long and thin, long stretches of white leather webbed between the bones and almost appeared nonexistent. While four mighty paws held up his frame. His face and head were angular like a horse's with great horns that arched like scimitars towards the sun. Strips of red ink cracked the delicate charcoal shading of the drawing and in the faded white of the scales around the dragon's neck. All the while there was a serpentine grin plastered on the dragon's face as he looked out into a field of rock and smoke.

_If Ancalagon was as great and destructive as he was – how was one able to get so close? _She wondered. It was said that Ancalagon had burst from a volcano, his maw ablaze with the fire from the earth's innermost centre clinging to him like a shroud. However striking he was, he was still a beast.

Her heart clenched in mute fear of the beast that grinned oh so wickedly at the world in his picture. What fear would have riddled someone who heard his great cry on the wind? To see his frame blot out the sun and not even blink before fire slipped from the creature's maw…

_Crack!_

The fire nearby spat and scared her nearly out of her skin. Aiwë watched her without so much as moving an inch.

"Tis nothing but a picture, Aiwë," She found herself muttering. Ancalagon was not real, he had been but he was no longer. Yet she seemed to have felt the fear that trailed after whispering his name. It shook her in the same regard that thunder pealed over plains and up mountains. Forcing back a shiver, she stood and straightened her skirts, picked up the book, and placed it back on the shelf she had found it from earlier.

The lithe cat preened her delicate face with a paw. Aiwë padded after her until she bade the cat to find Erestor. She would find Elladan again, but she kept Ancalagon's memory firmly locked away.

The rain clattered on the panes of the windows as she walked down the hall, skirts tugging at her heels. Coruwen found the lone son of Elrond at the end of the hall, running his fingers over the hilt of his sword. It was an elegant piece of work, the pommel was a bright jewel and the hilt was formed of auburn leather while the blade itself was reminiscent of one sided leaf. She had never seen it before.

"Elladan?" She asked quietly, touching his shoulder. He started, sword falling from his hand. It fell to the floor in a chiming clatter. Kneeling, she picked up the sword in both hands. It was heavy in her hands, almost awkward for her to shift and offer back to its master. Elladan eyed her curiously before taking it from her hand.

"You have never handled a sword, I take it?" Elladan asked and sheathed the blade. Her hands tingled with the memory of the sword's leather. She nodded, to which he grinned. Her mind never wanted blades like it had herbs and healing; it simply was never interesting to her. Her father had taught her to be an archer for the sake of protection alone, but it had taken serious control on his part. "Do you want to learn?"

Coruwen shook her head. Elladan cocked an eyebrow at her and said, "You are not disagreeing because you are a lady?"

Coruwen let out a wisp of laughter, "Swords are not topics I wish to divulge in, Elladan. My Adar only trained me to use a bow because it was wise in case Lothlórien was attacked," She said as the twin stood with his sword under his palm like a staff. "Even still, I would prefer to heal those who have taken an arrow to the shoulder rather than stick them with one."

Elladan's laughter filled the empty hall with a brightness that could have rivaled the sun. It pierced her heart like a spear and she giggled softly. When it died, his steely eyes turned to her, a smile lighting them. "What do you require of me, my lady?"

She nearly scoffed at the use of that term. The only people ever to use 'my lady' in her presence were Kain, Lindir, and when Erestor would speak with her; he would as well. A look of disbelief twisted her face for a moment and then it faded when the sounds of screaming horses tickled her hearing. Or at least she _thought_ she heard horses….

"Coruwen?" Elladan drew her back to the world before her rather quickly. He regarded her quietly, and her gut turned abruptly. Was she hearing things? She grasped Elladan's sleeve and tugged him over to the window. Yelping at first, he finally let her lead him to the tear streaked glass. Her eyes searched the courtyard, hoping to see the brimming fur cloaks of the Dunedain. But there was nothing, only rain dripping from the eves and falling onto the stone. "There is nothing there – what are you hoping to see?"

Her thoughts flew from her mouth, "I thought I heard horses…"

"I swore I heard them as well earlier, but… It was only a faded rumble of thunder," Elladan admitted with a sigh. "I know it is quiet, Coruwen, but we will have to stand by and wait until the Old Man decides the time is right to return south."

A frown turned down the sides of her lips. Elladan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and brought her to his side as he had done with Arwen many a time. Quietly, she slipped from under his arm to step back against the cold window. She had no need of his comfort at this moment. She…She did not seem to understand. Ignoring the biting cold of the glass, she bit the side of her hand.

"Coruwen… Stop this, please," Elladan said as he turned to face her. He took her by her shoulders with a grip that made her feel the tremors in his hands. "Kain will come back."

"It is not Kain I worry for!" Her voice came as a snap and Elladan nearly recoiled. Her inner voice was screaming at her to rein in her emotions. The snap made her throat burn, a burn never left her until her emotion coiled back into a neat fold in the pit of her stomach. "I-I apologize for that, Elladan… I never meant to yell."

Elladan watched her closely for a moment before taking a mental step forward. She lowered her gaze to the silver brooch at his throat. "Tis both of our faults. I should have not bid you to cease what comes as second nature to you and you should not have snapped." He corrected quietly. Through lowered lashes, she could see the hurt physically mar his face. Within her chest, her heart slammed against her ribs. "You are concerned for Arwen?"

"Yes," She nodded; wisps of hair freed themselves from her braid tickled her ear. "What with orcs packs running wildly about; I cannot help but feel it…" Her hand pressed against her heart as though blood wept openly from it. "She should be returning one of these days, correct?"

Elladan nodded, "Eventually."

"I hope she is safe returning… Heavens know that we have faced enough trouble these past few months," Tucking her hands into the long sleeves of her dress, she leaned against the trim of the window and hoped that all would be well, whenever that time came.

~.~.~

"How can you count that same bundle of herbs – twice?" Elladan's voice poked at the back of her mind while she carefully minded her fingers that pulled apart the stinging nettles in her hands. "What are you holding anyway?"

"Stinging nettles," She answered, and Glorfindel quietly echoed her at her back. He was coiling up a stretch of linen that would have been used on the wound at his side had it not healed. Luckily, a scar had not formed from that tiny experience and she was thankful for it.

"What do those do?" Coruwen nearly let the nettle bite her. As helpful as nettles were, they often hurt the healer more so than the patient. Silently, she hated using them. She placed the nettles back on the high shelf and then grabbed a large bit of willow bark. The shaved bits of tree bark splintered in her hand – it was old. "What is that?"

"I would not bother her, Elladan," Glorfindel chided. She barely had time to blink before the lord's golden hair flickered in her vision. She had run her fingers through a week or two prior when he had fallen to poison. It was reminiscent of her own but paler and far more intriguing to her. His fingers touched the splintering bark in her hand, "What is the matter?"

"How old is this?" She whispered and flicked her eyes up to his face. His royal blue eyes studied it closely.

"A few months or more," He swept back strands of her hair and tucked them behind her ear. "Come, I am sure we will find more just past the Bruinen's first bend."

Coruwen shadowed his steps, the tails of her travel coat hitting the backs of her knees. The tails were split to resemble a swallow's forked tail while the sleeves were thin and pointed. She could count on her hands how many times she had worn coats. This was longer than the others, and far from being threadbare. When her mind slipped away, she nearly ran into Glorfindel's back while Faenaur stood in his way like a great wall.

"Why is he standing in my way?" Her mentor asked. He was trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice, and she could not blame him. Faenaur was a nasty creature when he was provoked. The bloody horse liked to bite and rear with his iron shod feet. Thankfully, no one ever was struck by his feet. But Faenaur certainly glowered at Glorfindel as if he would kick him into the side of a mountain.

"Faenaur, shoo!" Coruwen nearly shouted and gestured for the stallion to run along. The palomino snorted, turned, and galloped off with mud kicking up in his wake. She stalked past Glorfindel and it was his turn to follow her out of Imladris, past a cluster of trees to a great, willow tree with spindly branches that graced the ground by mere inches. The tree before her had been here for years, the branches spoke all to her. The wind had to snake its way through the branches to find its way out of the labyrinth of leaves.

Coruwen wove through the branches until she found the tree's trunk. It was wider than a wooden trunk and covered with jagged, pale gold bark. Her hand flicked back to her hip, where a knife would rest but there nothing was empty space there… How could she run off without her knife? She groaned, rested her head against the tree's bole, and mutely berated herself.

"Coruwen?" A voice called after her. If Glorfindel lost her… Wait that did not _sound_ like an ellyn she knew. Only one elleth she knew possessed such a light, sweet voice. The willow's curtain of leaves parted to reveal Arwen, a velvet cloak obscuring the tails of a white traveling coat. "Coruwen – what are you doing out here?"

It was mere moments before Coruwen felt Arwen's tight embrace nearly choke the air out of her lungs. She wound her arms around Arwen's neck to hope to release some of the tension that her friend gave her.

"I am fetching white willow bark for the stores," Coruwen said when Arwen stepped back. Arwen hummed, she returned to the tree to gently chip away at the thick bark with her nails. "The bark we had was old and splintering."

"I have a surprise for you when you return to Imladris," Coruwen almost turned at the thought, but instead a wild joy filled her heart. A smile lit her face while she worked at the bark. "And I have to ask… Did the test happen..?"

"Yes," The word was bitter on her tongue, like a sour leaf, "It was Glorfindel that the poison was aimed upon."

"I knew that Ada would aim for him… But… But how are you coping with the after effects?"

The question stabbed her in the heart. She wound the little bits of bark into a bit of cloth before she stashed it away. In truth, she was handling the after effects quite poorly. Though the poison was gone and the wound was healed, she could not help but feel on edge since then. What slight bit of anger she possessed rose from the calm wake of her mind to strike like a pit viper. When she wanted to tuck her hands away into her sleeves, she found that the sleeves weren't bell like – they were thin. Her mind felt a drift for a moment.

With a careful tongue, she spoke, "I have not faced anything as terrible as this… It certainly has not been… easy for me." Arwen's grey-blue eyes reflected the hurt that tore at her. Perhaps the pain was clear and she did not notice it? The truth fell from her mouth like the rain that had fallen a week prior. "He is my mentor, he means a great deal to me. For him to fade away and his feä to return to Namos…"

She found herself colliding with the tree's bole as tears threatened to fall. Arwen started towards her, but then stopped short when a form – silver and grey – caught her eye. She found herself staring into the eyes of her father. The space around her gulped air before her arms wound around his neck while her face buried into the crook of his shoulder and neck.

"Oh my little nightingale," Haldir whispered into her hair. His strong arms held her close as if the ground rise up and take her from him. For what felt like an age, she had been away from him. And yet, here he stood – very much alive and well. Her fingers swept through his hair; it slipped through her fingers like little bits of ribbon, only to fall onto his back in a sheet. He… He had come.

Sadness tore through her like lightning. It ripped through her calm demeanor forcing tears to slip from her eyes. She screwed them shut to keep the tears away, but still they fell. Her father leaned back and suddenly she felt… Tiny again. She was suddenly at his knee and he was towering over her like a mallorn tree. His callused hands cupped her cheeks to allow his thumbs to gently press the tears away, leaving only cold streaks in their wake. One might have thought that such callused hands would scratch rather than comfort, but whoever said such a thing was wrong. Calluses were a sign of protection, but scars told more of a story than the other. She could count the scars her father had on his person, and she had counted the ones on Glorfindel's hands as well.

"No more tears, my nightingale," Haldir whispered as she cracked open her eyes to look up at him. He was a grey, silver-blonde blur in her eyes, yet she could hear the comfort in his voice that eased the tension in her heart.

"Why did you not tell me you would be coming with Arwen?" Coruwen enquired through the knot in her throat. Over Haldir's shoulder, she saw Orophin's silver hair flicker in and out of sight, followed by what she assumed was Rumil. "I-I would have prepared myself greet you…"

Haldir chuckled lightly, "You have not changed much, my daughter." She took his offered arm and walked out of the willow's branches to the open glade before the cluster of trees. "To be honest with you, your uncles and I had no idea we would be traveling with Lady Arwen until a few days prior. Her guards ran off and were murdered by a stray pack of orcs."

Coruwen kept her tongue still for a moment when Kain's Dunedain troop surfaced in her mind. Enough of this madness, why must she let such worries perturb her? Shaking off the thoughts, she focused on keeping pace with her father's longer strides. She had walked with Glorfindel before, who was taller than her father by half a head. Yet she stumbled on her own feet like a bumbling fawn.

Her countenance slipped, revealing her inward confusion to him. "What bothers you, Coruwen?" Haldir asked at last. She glanced up at him and then bowed her head again. "Lady Arwen has told me of the ordeals you have faced in the past few months. It is no surprise to me that you are as distressed as you are."

"Ada… Your statement reminds me of a troop of Dunedain that left weeks ago for the north, they have yet to return," She answered, digging her nails into his arm. Her father cocked up an eyebrow at her words, but said nothing. "And that only adds to what goes on around me."

He plucked her nails out of his doublet like one would pluck a cat's claws out of a shirt. "Of that I have no doubt."

They walked back to the main courtyard, where Faenaur greeted them with a loud whinny and stamp of his feet. Coruwen smiled as her father stalked over to Faenaur and greeted him with a pat on the nose. When he returned to her side, her horse's snort of disapproval made her laugh quietly. But it was with a heavy heart that she bid her father farewell for the time being when they reached the top of the stairwell that led up to the council chamber. Haldir told her he would find her later in the evening.

When she returned to her chambers, she found a small box nestled into the folds of her coverlet. The box was small, and whiter than milk with a tiny letter on the top of it. Intrigue prodded her as she sat on the edge to take up the small box. It was light… She switched the box into one hand while she pried open the letter with the other.

The letters were clearly scrawled in haste, but she ignored the bits of ink that dotted the paper. Instead, she smiled at the name at the bottom. _Elladan_… Her heart reflected the smile on her face with ease. With tentative fingers, she undid the clasp of the box to find a tiny, crystalline vial nestled in purple velvet within. She picked up the vial and nearly hissed at how bitterly cold it was. It was a near-perfect tear in shape and within the vial, there looked to be water. Coruwen slipped the vial around her neck. Fingers of cold pinched her skin as it settled round her neck.

As the light of day faded, she slowly began to pick up various books that she needed to return to Erestor, a few spools of thread that had escaped her sewing basket thanks to Aiwë, and found her medical bag in the far corner stuffed into her old riding boots.

"Confounded cat," Coruwen hissed as she riffled through the bag to check its contents. Her needle and the bits of vinegar rinsed thread were still there, but Aiwë had run off with her herbs. Why did that not shock her?

As she started to rise with her bag, a knock came at her door. The bag fell from her grip in a thud. When she gave an answer, Arwen slid into the room with a bundled up cloak in her arms. The Lady Undomiel flashed a smile at her before dropping the bundle on her bed.

"I have something for you," Arwen laughed when Coruwen stalked closer, curiosity becoming almost unbearable. Whatever she possessed was shiny in a way, for Coruwen could see the tails of embroidered, sheer fabric sticking out of the cloak's confines. Then her friend's earlier words smacked her like a hammer in the head. A sly grin found its way onto her face. Arwen smiled foxily as well and began to unwrap the cloak to reveal a dress.

It was a beautiful shade of lilac with a bodice that climbed to the arches of her collarbone covered in a glittering, sheer fabric that had elegantly swooping lines of jasmine flowers on the hem of the slender sleeves and neckline. Arwen gently scooped it up and held it out for her to see the long train that followed after the dress with the same jasmine flowers on the edges. Her hands itched to touch it, but in a strange way she felt as though it would break if she so much as graced it.

"Arwen…" Her friend's name came out as a breath. Arwen smiled brightly through the sheer fabric. "What…? What is this?"

"This is a dress that I commissioned in Lothlórien for you," Her friend explained. Running her fingers over the fabric, she found it to be slick yet soft. "After all, your begetting day is in a week's time, is it not?"

Coruwen was struck dumb by Arwen's realization, "Y-Yes it is."

"All the more reason for you to have a new dress," Lady Undomiel placed the dress on the bed again before taking a hold of her hand. Quickly her eyes narrowed at the vial at her collarbone. "Ai, Adar gave it to you…"

Coruwen's fingers rushed to the vial, "Elladan did actually…."

Her smile softened, "It will look pretty with the dress. Or at least I think."

It never occurred to her that Arwen would have known about the vial. If Elladan had given it to her, then if meant that Elrond might have known what it did as well? It certainly seemed logical. She found herself still smiling. As she sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers graced the intercut jasmine flowers on the train of her dress.

"Thank you, Arwen. This… This is wonderful," Coruwen nearly laughed. Her friend regarded her curiously when her words faded off. "What does this vial mean?"

Arwen rounded the corner of her bed and picked up the vial with gentle fingers. The water within rattled quietly while she shook it. Frowning, she said, "If I understood Ada's letter, this is an antidote for orc poisons. It should be able to cure almost anything, but I never know with antidotes, they are…"

"Fickle?" Coruwen enquired. Arwen nodded and sat beside her. In a rush, the vial suddenly weighed more than a boulder about her neck. She tightened her fist around it to alleviate the weight, but it was futile. It wound its hands around her neck and choked her. Arwen's hand took hers quietly, "I should be thankful that I did not kill him."

Arwen's hand tightened around hers. "He knew what would happen. And he placed his life in your hands."

The coil around her heart lessened a tiny bit. However, ease never came to her. Mayhaps it never would, knowing her. But hetrusted her, as she trusted him… At the thought, a smile graced her face, albeit small and genuine. "You are not wrong. The stress of the Dunedain riding north has certainly taken its toll upon me. And my test only tripled it."

"Do you have the power within yourself to be free of concern for a few days?" Her smile died on her lips. Was it truly possible? She had a nasty habit of over-thinking situations, even small things. Every idea, or task, seeped into her bones like a bite. Her father was here, her uncles as well, and soon the troop would be returning to Imladris… Coruwen nodded slowly. "A-Are you sure?"

"How hard could it be?" An airy laugh escaped her, mostly aimed at herself more than Arwen. She hid her smile underneath her palm, "I mean, why should I condemn myself?"

Her friend did not smile, "Coruwen, I am not asking you to stop being yourself… I only ask you to simply let the concerns not hinder your happiness."

The words stopped her humorless laughing short. And then silence choked out her voice to nothing more than a hiss. Another nod shook her head, this time for more true. Arwen tightened her hands around hers with a smile brimming on her lips. "Thank you," she whispered.

~.~.~

Coruwen fidgeted with the hem of her train impatiently. The moon danced on the jasmine flowers, weaving sliver-white into fabric as she appeared like a lilac crystal underneath its gaze. Her fingers pinched and tucked long strands of her hair behind her ear in a fit of nervousness. With each movement of her head, her hair flew out from behind her ear to stray into her eyes. Without a diadem or braids, her hair went every which way until she temporarily fixed the problem by twisting back a few more strands.

A pair of hands took her shoulders and she yelped. Turning, she found a set of royal blue eyes regarding her kindly. "Glorfindel," She sighed, placing her hand on his. "I-I thought…"

"That I was someone else?" He smiled at her, "I could say the same for you."

Blush warmed her ears and crept along the back of her neck underneath the shade of her hair. Her eyes fixed on the silver cloak that hung from his shoulders. She was quiet for a long moment until he broke the silence, "Walk with me?"

Coruwen's eyes flicked up to his. The sea touched the sky for a brief moment before they returned to their separate worlds. She took his offered arm, only taking a moment to swing her train behind her so that she would not trip on it.

"Your father has spoken highly of you, my dear. Or rather, at least to me he has expressed his pride," Glorfindel said. There was a deeply rooted concern in his voice that dared to bleed over into her. It threatened her, taunted her with every ribald jape it knew, but she shoved it away. She spoke quicker than he by placing her fingers on his wrist.

"What is bothering you?" He blinked owlishly at her for a brief moment. Coruwen traced a faint, silvery scar on the thin, exposed flesh of his wrist. His pulse thrummed lightly underneath her fingertips, and she swirled them up and over the heel of his hand. His hands turned in a snap and caught her hands, forcing a quiet gasp from her. She stared at their hands, long and slender but quite different in a sense. She continued to observe them in silence, but whispered, "Glorfindel, please."

"I will not allow myself to bother you-," She turned a look up at him, one that was stern yet quietly begging him to tell her. A long sigh escaped him. "Do not tell anyone this."

"Have I ever had reason to betray you?"

Her lord chuckled humorlessly, a laugh that stung her heart. "A hawk arrived yesterday with news from the Dunedain troop. Kain, Elrohir, and the Head Ranger are all that are left…We sent Mithrandir to find them. But he _found_ an item of interest on the head scout."

A coil of pain wound itself around her heart. It wound itself tighter and tighter, and ignored her useless pining for it to cease. Her hands clutched her lord's tighter until her knuckles paled. "What…What did they find?"

"A bounty…" The words fell like a stone. "But it was in the tongue of Mordor… The Black Speech, it is called by Men."

Coruwen frowned, "Who was the bounty for?"

"A man by the name of Thorin Oakenshield," Glorfindel shut his eyes for a brief moment in thought. Coruwen could see the muscles in his jaw tighten, his frown became a near scowl, and when he opened his eyes… The dark fire of anger seethed within.

"He is the heir to the throne of Erebor. A throne that was taken captive by a dragon, or that is what Erestor told me. But that remains beside the point - Why would orcs be hunting him?"

The irritation that would have been present, faded away. "I would not know, my dear. But it bothers me to no end, even though I do not who this man is." And then all at once Glorfindel sighed heavily, shaking his head. "I should not worry you on such a night. It… It was wrong."

"Tis better to let words speak freely than bottle them up. I… I know the feeling of keeping ideas or words locked away without ever thinking that it might hinder me."

Glorfindel's smile was small and then vanished when he brushed a kiss onto her knuckles. He stayed with her when no one else sought her out, which she was thankful for by the time she left him. The dwindling thoughts of what had happened to Kain and his kin… It nagged at her, even when she tried to sleep. Despite her day being quite pleasant, her dreams were far from it.

_Snow whirled around her feet, the trees whispering amongst themselves like shy children while the wind tosses their spiky tops. The world around her was dark through the trees, and the only light she could see was that of the moon that hung above. The snow kicked up under the hem of her dress … The cold avoided her but the snow clung to her skirts, lining them with a bit of hoarfrost. _

_Coruwen spun her skirts, the frost never dragged her down, it merely added a wintry lace to the bottom of the plain, ebon cloth. She could feel herself smiling, a bright childish smile that she had long since forgotten. Spinning again, she laughed, snow flying up in her wake. Her laugh sounded terribly alien to her ears, as if she had never heard it before. _

_Her laughter died when a growl made her back straighten painfully. Whirling, she faced the carnal growl with fear cutting at her heart. Stalking toward her was a black wolf, its fur dappled with large bits of icy lace. It snarled at her, white teeth flashing and black nose crinkling in disdain. Her body refused to move, as if the wolf's presence had crippled her sense of flight. It was like Leitos… The same, crippling fear ran through her. It stalked forward until she could feel its growl shake her chest. _

_Her feet then began to move, to run, in fact she was sprinting from this wolf. The snow crunched underfoot, but her heart casted out the sound to replace it with a reminder of her fear. Her heart beat like a horse's hooves in her ears. It beat in her ears until she swore her head would burst from the pressure. That was until the wolf caught her skirts with its teeth and the pressure pounded in her temples. _

_The ice and snow rose up and swallowed her with the wolf being their herald. Hot pain coursed down her back and up into her skull, sharper than a blade. Breath escaped her in puffs of steam, only rising a few inches before the wolf's breath snuffed it out like a candle with its own. It had a dark gaze, one that made her heart jump and flutter like a caged bird. _

"_What do you want?" She whispered as she struggled to get to her feet. Its grin lessened a bit and its eyes opened a tiny bit more. Coruwen swallowed thickly as it sat on its haunches – looking at her. _

_Taking a moment, she observed the wolf. It was a handsome, weathered creature. Its eyes were a beautiful shade of blue and grey, filled with a child-like curiosity. They were striking against the darkness that covered it from nose to tail. They reminded her more of the sea than her mentor's, they even possessed a swirling maelstrom of colors that could only live in the sea. Her eyes traveled to its scarred shoulders, where she found risen pink scars racing from one side to the other. The wolf cocked its head to the side in interest when she lifted a hand to touch its battle nicked ear. When it came close to its head, the wolf's ears flattened against its head and growled low in its throat. _

_Backing away her hand, she leaned on her elbows in the snow. All around them, the snow pranced and whirled with tiny snowflakes turning smooth circles in an infinite dance. In one movement, the wolf hopped off of her to allow her to stand. The removal of its weight was a small godsend since her legs had lost feeling in them when the wolf had sat on her knees. It stared up at her with curious eyes. If only she could touch it without it growling. _

"_May I touch your ear?" Coruwen asked sweetly, kneeling down to its level. Its ears perked up at her voice. She began to lift her hand with a pace that a slug could outpace with ease. The wolf never noticed… Her hand connected with the wolf's ear and it flinched. But it never snarled… It only gazed at her curiously. The wolf pressed its heavy head into her palm, groaning happily. The warmth of satisfaction curled up in her chest like a cat next to a hearth. _

_She moved her hand through the wolf's course, but plush fur. It never growled at her after that. It let her run her fingers through its fur until she had enough of petting it. But when she made to stand, it rumbled low in its throat. Meeting its blue gaze, a twist of heartache slapped her in the face. Did it not want her to leave? Her fingers dipped down and rubbed the bridge of its nose. It was when she tried to abandon the wolf that surprise tackled her to the floor. Its nose was pushed under her palm, cold and wet. She could feel its breath steam out of it with each breath, she could feel the ever so slight pulse there was well. _

_Suddenly the wolf jerked free of her hand, turned, and ran off into the thicket of shadows. Coruwen stared through the thicket after the wolf, but it never returned. Why had it left? What caused it to leave? As she turned away from the trees, one could hear the wolf begin to howl. It howled it sorrowful song to the pendant-like moon far, far above the world. The howl forced from her eyes, and made her knees buckle. _

_As the tears dissolved into the snow, her vision blurred but the song never died… _

Coruwen sat upright with a tight chest, gasping for air. She could hear the wolf's song in her ears still, and tears continued to slip from her eyes. They soaked her bed sheets and they _stung_. She screwed her eyes shut until glowing spots scarred her eyes. She wanted to think of something else or someone! Too many tears had been spilt these past few days. Tears that were never meant to fall…!But when she tried to think of other images, all her mind could see was the wolf sitting in the snow with the wind in its fur…

* * *

_A/N: Happy Valentines Day, everyone! :) And this is my present to you all. So, if you didn't figure it out, we're in the part of the story that was shown at the very beginning of Desolation of Smaug. I tweaked it a tiny bit to fit in with the Dunedain, but it's only a tiny change that I hope won't hinder your reading. Or, one could have thought of it as the Dunedain found Gandalf after he had dealt with the orc scouts.. _

_Thank you all for reviewing, favoriting, and following these past few chapters - it means a lot to me! _

_If you want to follow me on tumblr, please look me up under this penname! And please, favorite, follow, and review if you liked this chapter._

_May the stars watch over you, _

_-Angel _


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

_~The Grey Pilgrim~_

She would never tell anyone how much the most recent vision shook her. Coruwen hoped that no one would notice how shaken she was. No doubt Haldir would notice before even Glorfindel… Then again, her father had a nasty habit of leaving her to her own devices – it was always Orophin who picked up on her adversity to people. She did not understand why, why that wolf bothered her so dearly. Closing her eyes, she could see its beautiful blue-grey eyes shining through the snow and icy winds.

"_Why?_" Coruwen asked the silence of her room. When no answer came, she sighed. It was ridiculous – how could she allow herself to be affected by a simple vision? The flat of her hand slammed against her snowy coverlet, a few pillows flinched and her vial pressed itself against the bare skin just below her collarbones. She was such a fool! If that wolf had not come along and tore up her dream world… If that wolf had not… If she had not been so easily shaken… An ache spread in her chest, constricting her with its tight bonds.

Coruwen fisted the coverlet in her hand; its perfect face contorted as her nails curled round it. Tremors forced her hands to shake, and then her shoulders before she sat on the edge of the light speckled bed. She felt weak; her mind was too easily shaken by such a simple vision. It was a wolf! It meant nothing, absolutely nothing; it was a creature that hunted. The grey-blue of its eyes scarred the backs of her eyelids with its curious gaze. They were achingly beautiful, a color that only Glorfindel's eyes could rival. But in truth, they were quite different, one was solemn and the other wisdom. Turning her gaze to the sky, she saw the clear but sheer covering of the clouds.

A knock at her door made her gasp. Her heart leapt into her throat, but she pushed it back down. Answering the knock, Haldir appeared like a grey ghost, his silver-blonde hair bound back in a low braid. His eyes regarded her curiously as he shut the door behind him.

"Are you well, nightingale?" Her father enquired softly. His footsteps were soft on the wood floor, a feat that not even Arwen could accomplish. She stared up into his sharp features, one that seemed oh so very alien to her. She had not seen him in months, heavens a year at the most. Sitting at her side, he ran a hand over her hair. "You look a tad pale."

She shook his thought away, "I was thinking through the night, I suppose it kept me up." A slight scowl formed on Haldir's face, but he remained quiet. Had he been Glorfindel – Eru, she wished he were present. He would have eased the tense pain that ached in her chest. Though she sometimes disliked his prodding, she never admitted to him that she was thankful for it.

But Haldir was not her mentor in the slightest. Her father stared at the crystal vial round her neck, and she shielded his view of it with her fingers. "Where did this come from?"

"It was a gift from Elladan and Lord Elrond," She replied automatically. "It is an antidote for orc poisons."

Haldir hummed, "Lord Glorfindel told me of your test and how well you did." Her fingers fell from the necklace as she rose and crossed the room to the window. Sunlight danced across the sill outside of the window and the purple peonies and milk-white gardenias just below it. She reached down, plucked a fragrant gardenia and cradled the bud in her palm. "You have made me proud."

Her attention snapped up at his words, her eyes wide. "Proud?" The word was flat on her tongue. There was a tiny rise of joy in her heart, but it died so quickly that her emotions barely had a moment to catch it. He was proud of her…? "Adar, you never…"

"I know, my child," He rose, crossed the room to her, and took the hand that cradled the gardenia. Haldir pinched a section of her hair to tuck the flower bud behind her ear. The sweet scent of the gardenia became nauseating in an instant. "And mayhaps I should have told you how proud I was instead of letting my brothers do it for me. I have made many, many mistakes with you."

Coruwen gave him a tender smile. "You have not wronged me, Ada. I know your love is different than that of Uncle Orophin or Rumil." Her fingers slid the gardenia from her hair. As it slid free, she caught the glimpse of guilt rise and fall like a breath across his face. He was a dour ellon, driven purely by his duty to Lórien and the Lord and Lady. If she dwelt on her childhood, she had never seen him smile as brightly as her uncles had. She took his hand softly to press the gardenia into it. He leapt at the contact at first, much like she would have done, but relaxed after a few moments. The breeze buffeted the plush petals in his hand, "Your love was stern, but I always knew that you never ceased loving me. I have always been your daughter – your nightingale."

The guilt he tried to hide surfaced in his grey eyes. What bothered him so? Had she been a cat, she would have pawed at him. An itch crawled under her skin, the desire to comfort him was screaming under her skin. He would not take to comfort as easily as her mentor or Elladan, but… What good would come from helping an ellon who did not wish to be helped?

Haldir turned away from her, and her heart thrust itself against her ribs. She watched his lithe figure stalk out of her room, silent as a shadow. Her fingers pulled at a random strand of hair, twirling it as her nerves etched themselves under her skin. What had she done? She shook her head – he had always become secluded around her when emotions pressed… Coruwen started to dress while she thought of her father. Did she mean nothing to him? He had said _nothing_ to her; there was solely guilt in his eyes. It had been him that had trained her to watch for subtle emotions – he had used himself as a test subject for Eru's sake! A grimace formed on her lips as she thought more on it. _Eyes are pictures for you to gaze at, nightingale_, he had told her. If eyes were pictures, then his eyes had become plain for her. His picture too simple…

Her fingers fumbled with the laces of her boots. They were new, the leather stiff - a brusque knock at her door made her tighten them again. As she answered, Elladan threw the door open with Glorfindel stalking nearby. Straightening, she slanted her eyes at the twin that stood before her, concern etched into his stormy eyes.

She raised an eyebrow as Elladan said, "They…They came back."

"Kain…? And your brother?" Asked Coruwen, folding her hands into the sleeves of her dress. At Elladan's nod, her heart hiccupped in her chest. "Well, let us go find them."

Glorfindel inched into the room, his royal blue eyes darker than a raging sea. "Elrond wished to speak with the Old Ranger and Elrohir. However, I believe we can find Kain…"

"I know where he is!" A voice piped behind them. Coruwen gazed past her mentor to a child with a mop of dark hair and grey eyes. He was tall for a boy, taller than the few boys she had seen in Imladris. The boy had been one she had seen chasing after the twins a time or two, but they had always sent him away…

"_Estel_, what have we told you about poking your head into ladies' rooms?" Elladan chided as he strode past her, his cloak nipped at her ankles as he passed. He sounded like his brother and father when he scolded others. It made a smirk quirk up the sides of her mouth.

"Not to do it," Estel murmured sheepishly. "She hardly seems to mind, she's smiling."

Elladan whirled on her, a slight scowl tugging at his lips, "Do not encourage him."

Coruwen let out an airy laugh, "We tell you the same, but you seem not to listen." Glorfindel chuckled at her side; his hand curled around her wrist and squeezed it lightly. Elladan shook his head and followed after Estel mutely. Her smile fell on her lips, but she never let her lord mentor see. He would understand if she told him about her vision, he would make more sense of it than Haldir would. It all came down to whether or not she could manage such a feat.

~.~.~

Estel bounded ahead of them like a spry puppy, laughing like a banshee. The boy was elated when Kain came back with the Old Ranger in tow. Gilraen had brought him to Imladris years ago, and since then Estel had clung to the twins and Kain whenever they were afoot. When Elrohir left with Kain, Estel was not quite himself; he became rather quiet for many weeks until word started flowing in about the rangers. The word had been upsetting to say the least, for even he was bothered still by the word he had received. The entire Dunedain troop had been slaughtered by orcs, or poisoned and soon after choked on it. He never told Coruwen about the latter, he _had_ told her that the Old Ranger, Kain, and Elrohir survived. An ache twisted behind his eyes like a coiled snake…

They passed under an ornate arch, following the chime of Estel's laugh. The world around him seemed to over exaggerate every noise; the roar of the falls, the shrill cry of messenger hawks and songbirds, and even the clicks of the boots under him. With the pressure that built behind his eyes, he nearly lost his balance.

"Glorfindel," Coruwen's voice reached his ears like a wave. Her voice was fainter than a whisper, but his ears made it louder than a shriek. Pushing away a wince, he turned his gaze on her. Her dainty hand gripped his wrist like a vice, preventing him from running into Elladan's back. Her eyes hovered over his face, concern darkening the sky blue of her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, my dear," He replied quietly. Estel's gasp of concern forced his attention away from Coruwen to the grey-eyed boy. A mess of ashen blonde hair and slashed leather and chainmail lay heaped on the weathered stone. Glorfindel had only a second to blink before Coruwen had moved to the fallen form. The silver pins in her hair glittering like slim stars in her hair as she pressed her ear against the man's chest.

"He is not dead, he is simply exhausted – probably from the long ride here from Fornost," Coruwen said, lifting her head and sweeping back a few waves that fell from their silvery prisons to brush her face. Her fingers found Kain's side and rolled him onto his back. The ranger's jaw tensed in pain, and a barely audible groan escaped through his teeth. "Kain, are you hurt?"

"No, no... I-I am fine," The ranger answered, his voice terse. Coruwen ran her fingers over his brow. Kain's eyes cracked open to regard Estel. A wan smile formed on his lips, "I apologize for my state, Estel… You should not have to see this."

Estel plopped himself at Kain's head, legs crossed neatly while he combed his fingers through his messy hair. The boy was silent. Coruwen picked herself up off of the stone, dusted off her cream skirts, and joined his side.

"Are you going to be all right, little one?" Coruwen enquired kindly. Grey eyes rose to the elleth's face and he gave her a solemn nod. "Kain, you are certain you do not need aid?"

"I am, my lady," Kain answered. The ranger had grown a beard in the time he had been gone, and there was a great amount of ash and dirt covering it. As he moved aside of clump of matted, dirty hair, rills of dried onyx and red blood weaved in and out of his hairline to stick to his skin. It could not have been Kain's, or at least some of it could not have been. He knew some of it belonged to the orc packs, and the rest… Well it could have belonged to anyone. The ranger shifted his weight onto his elbows, wincing as he drew himself up, "Estel can watch over me just as well as any of you could."

Elladan offered a hand to the ranger to help him stand, "Actually, we wished to speak with you about your trip North," Kain stared at Elladan for a long moment, confused, until he nodded slowly. Kain turned and sat on a low stone fence, his hand clutching his right side. Estel followed after him and sat at his side. "We wanted to know how the three of you made it out. After all, the hawk said that there was a massacre."

"And it was most certainly that, my lords and lady," The ranger clasped his hands together over his sternum; his stare locked on his bloodied knuckles. "We were near Mount Gundabad when the orcs seemed to appear out of the caves and mountainside… I-I barely remember how our men kept dying – only that the Old Man told me to run. And I ran with him and Lord Elrohir behind me."

"Going to such a place was folly! Why did the Old Man think such a thought was ideal?" Elladan's voice started to rise, but stopped when Estel looked up at him with large, owl-like eyes.

"We thought there would be no harm in it, we were sorely mistaken," Kain amended, glancing once over at Estel. The boy had a face of steel to match the color of his eyes. "It was not my place to correct the Old Man. It was Arniel's, but the fool agreed with the unknowing."

Elladan settled back on his heels, his hand turning the pommel of his sword. Glorfindel took that moment to take a step closer. "Was there anything that you saw that looked odd?"

Kain shook his head, matted hair sticking to the rills of dried blood on his face. "No, the only out of place thing was us." Estel patted Kain's leather gauntlet like one pats a hound. A humorless grin formed on Kain's face, "We should have simply gone to Fornost."

"The Old Man would be boring if he did not try to do idiotic ideas such as this," Elladan said, clasping Kain on the shoulder, despite the man's flinch of pain. "I will go find my brother, if I can. I will return shortly."

Elladan walked off, his stride brisk and his face was twisted in thought. Glorfindel pinched the space between his eyes. Why did the Old Ranger wander near that mountain? He _knew_ that kingdom had been lost long, long ago. The orcs were able to fashion steel and procreate in those old halls. The North was only occupied by a few faithful causes nowadays; the rest had crumpled under the thumb of the rogue shadow that lurked high above. Glorfindel turned and found an unoccupied bench, where he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge between them. Pain built behind them, surging forward and snapping like a rabid animal at him.

And then cold fingers pressed against his pulse, forcing him to leap by a hair. "You seem pain," Coruwen's voice touched the shell of his ear, lighter than a mother's kiss. His hand fell from his nose as his eyes opened to regard her. The kindness he gave her was forced through his pain. Her fingers landed on his wrist, where they took up stroking the heel of his hand. "Is there anything I may be able to help with?"

Her concern was a sweeter than a peach. An inward smile warmed his heart, masking the ache of doubt that had knotted itself firmly within him. Her voice was a better liar than her face was. Upon looking at her, he saw bluish ashen circles under her eyes, stark against her pale cheeks. Glorfindel could not stop the hand that tucked a section of her hair behind her ear to reveal more of the ashen color around her eyes. As she edged away from him, silver pins slipped from her hair and fell onto the stone, chiming like little bells. With her hair half pinned up and her ashen eyes, she appeared like a ghost, a shadow.

Glorfindel stooped and picked up a series of pins, while a second set of little hands – ones that were scratched – picked up a few other pins. "Here, my lady," Estel's voice squeaked above him. He froze, clutched the pins in his fist, and straightened again. With an open palm, Estel handed the pins back to their owner. His eyes were cast down, and his cheeks were ever so slightly pink. Coruwen took the pins from him with a ghostly smile.

"Thank you, Estel," She whispered. Estel grinned from ear to ear with her words and then returned to Kain. The young man ruffled Estel's hair with a battered hand, but Glorfindel caught the hasty glimpses of a foxy grin on the man's lips.

"Please tell me if there is anything I might do to ease your mind, my lord," Coruwen repeated, her fingers beginning to sweep out the rest of the pins in her hair to correct the damage that had been done. She had the summer sun caught in her hair. He almost stopped her from coiling back onto the crown of her head. As interesting as it was pinned up, he had grown used to it falling down her back. When the last pin clicked back into place in her hair, he shut his eyes with a small frown tugging at his lips. "Glorfindel?"

He found himself stumbling over his words when the pain surfaced behind his eyes once more. "I-I have a small headache," He answered in a quiet voice. He could almost hear her frown. When he opened his eyes to look at her, he found that her lips were pulled into a tight line. "I wish there was something you could do, my dear."

Her eyes narrowed in thought and Glorfindel watched her for a few moments. The greyish circles under her eyes seemed to darken when a freckle of shade passed over her eyes. She had glowed the other night as she walked with him, and now… His apprentice was becoming a shadow again. And how he hated seeing her in such a ghost-like state.

"If you cannot help me, let me at least help you," Glorfindel found his voice to be small, one that was not his own. Coruwen noticed it as quick as he, for she gave him a look of confusion immediately. Clearing his throat, his voice returned fuller. "You are not yourself, my dear… It has been laid bare before once, and now it comes back a second time."

A swift flush of pink rose to her cheeks. Her fingers fidgeted with the loose sleeve of her dress, but he stopped her fingers quicker than they began.

Her fingers curled into his palm, "A-A vision of foresight kept me up most of the night," Her words struck him like knife-blows to the chest. Erestor told him of her vision of Erebor, but he never thought it would come back… He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his tongue in check. "I should not tell you this. You are bothered as it stands."

"Coruwen, if you wish to tell me, it might ease your conscious," He squeezed her hand in assurance with the hopes she would tell him. If this feeling within her festered, who knows how she might appear later on.

The elleth managed a tiny nod, and she told him of her vision. Coruwen kept her voice quiet, as though the walls had ears or the waterfalls would make her voice ricochet to unfriendly ears. She spoke of a wolf with blue eyes and night black fur, standing in a snowstorm. The wolf was strange, it had tried to kill her – and would have succeeded had it not decided to be kind to her.

"It never hurt me… But when I tried to leave it, it pushed its nose under my palm with gentle eyes," He saw tears form on the edges of her eyes, and she crushed his hand in her own. "When it ran off, it began to sing through the wood. I-I have heard wolves before, but none have sounded as sorrowful as this one. I-I have no idea as to what brought this about, but… But now I cannot listen to the wind without hearing its song."

He loosened his hand from her vice-like grip to allow her to lean into him. Her willowy frame fell against his side like a stone, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She pressed her face against his shoulder, staunching the tears that beaded on her lower lashes. His hand curled around her shoulder tighter.

"Foresight is a terrible beast, but can be controlled. Fearing it will only make such occurrences worse," He soothed resting his chin on her head. A few loose wisps of feathery soft hair brushed past his face, bearing the scent of roses. "Foresight, for one, is never certain. Some visions can tell the future or the past and be clearer than a piece of glass. But others can be clearer than mud, and there have been times when unclear visions will never be made right. In the end, it is best to forget them."

A long sigh escaped her, "But why a wolf? Out of all creatures – why such a beast?"

"I know no better than you, my dear. But a wolf can mean many things – war, loneliness, despair, or devotion," The lady at his side tensed, but never said a word. He straightened, squeezed her shoulder, and she slipped away from his side. "You should not dwell on it…"

Coruwen regarded him with watery eyes. "You are right… I-I should not let this bother me as it has. Without you or Lord Erestor, I would be a distraught shadow of myself. Thank you."

Glorfindel managed to find a smile through the numbing pain in the back of his skull. He would have given her more than simply advice on foresight if he could have. She had become dear to him ever since Elrond put her in his care. One of her hands touched the top of his briefly before she stood. Coruwen gave him a knowing smile as she stood, the jewels on the hem of her skirt twinkling while she smoothed them down.

All of a sudden, her eyes narrowed, "Glorfindel, do you know a grey-haired man by any chance?"

A frown pulled at his lips. Grey hair, oh he knew such an appearance all too well. Standing, he sat a blue-grey hair, pointed like spire, bobbing up and down while storm-grey robes chased after the hat like nipping hounds. The Old Ranger's message had not lied then, Mithrandir had followed them all the way from the North. But for what reason, remained to be seen.

"Gandalf…" Glorfindel whispered. Coruwen's stare locked on his almost immediately. The sadness had drained from her eyes, leaving only a steel mask that he had never seen before. Her face was formed of stone as she watched Gandalf's hat bob up the steps.

"I have heard of Mithrandir… From Arwen," Coruwen whispered in his ear, cooler than an icy wind. Her voice made a shiver bound down his spine. When he tried to reply, she had turned her attention back on Gandalf, who had rounded the balustrade and smiled when he saw them. The old man's knotted staff flicked out with each step, sending little _clicks _throughout the stone. When Glorfindel met the blue stare of Gandalf, the Maia smiled brightly.

"Ah, Lord Glorfindel! Lord Elrond told me you would be wandering about up here," Gandalf greeted. He pressed his palm over his heart and bowed to Glorfindel. Upon straightening, the Maia pressed his free hand to the middle of his staff.

"It is good to see you as well, Mithrandir," Glorfindel replied with a smile. The pain behind his eyes became like that of a needle. When Gandalf turned his gaze to Coruwen, she gave the Maia a curtsey. "Mithrandir, this is my apprentice, Coruwen."

"Well met, my lady. It is a pleasure to meet you," Gandalf laughed, and Coruwen gave the wizard a timid smile. Gandalf stroked the grey beard that went past his belt. "Could I trouble you for a moment, Lord Glorfindel? There is something that I believe requires your attention."

Glorfindel looked down at the lady at his side. She met his gaze with one that could have rivalled a doe's. A lance of assurance pierced him, "I believe Lady Coruwen can hear what you wish to tell me, my friend. She has listened to a few of Erestor's lectures before."

And for a moment, Gandalf eyed him curiously but in the end the Maia nodded – though whether to himself or them, Glorfindel could not tell. The Maia bade them to walk with him, and then started off down the same set of steps that he entered on. Coruwen took his offered arm to walk at his side while they followed after Gandalf, but he noticed rather quickly how uneasy Coruwen was in Gandalf's presence. Her nails began to dig into his arm like little needles and her gaze was forced down.

"Rest easy, he is a friend," Glorfindel whispered before Gandalf began to speak. In return, she gave him a look of appreciation and her nails ceased digging into his arm.

"As you probably already know, I found the Old Ranger and what was left of his troop on the road north to Fornost. But what delayed us was a bit of trouble, you see. It was nothing more than a small orc pack that mistook me and my companions for vagabonds." Gandalf explained. "Upon their deaths we found a letter…"

"A bounty for a man, I seem to remember," Glorfindel recalled and Gandalf nodded. "Why would the bounty be on a man?"

Coruwen touched his hand, and her voice was soft, "The man that is named is an heir, a prince. It stands to reason that they would hunt him."

Gandalf smiled through his beard at Coruwen, "Your lady is correct. And I _may_ be able to find him…"

An uneasy knot formed in his stomach at the Maia's words. "Am I assuming you will be leaving?" Glorfindel enquired. "Surely you do not wish to follow after the heir."

"If I can find him, it will benefit us," Had he been paying more attention, he would have asked his colleague what he meant, but no. There was no stopping the pain that swallowed him. Gandalf's staff rapped the ground like a drum as his stride lengthened. Coruwen ran her fingers over his forearm in an attempt to soothe him, but the pressure in his skull was starting to become overwhelming. It nagged at him, kicked and flailed like a beast, forcing him to only know pain.

"_Us?_" Coruwen asked. "Whatever do you mean, Mithrandir?" Gandalf walked off and never gave her an answer. "Please Mithrandir!"

"Coruwen…" His voice was enough to rattle the pain in his skull more. His arm slid from hers to take a hold of her wrist. There was no use in asking after Mithrandir now… His mind was set on a crazed idea that may or may not prevail. Coruwen turned to him and pressed her hand against his forehead. "I should have mentioned it to you…"

"Tis not your fault… Months may have gone by, but your body still is building its pan threshold back up. It was a simple overestimation, nothing more," She said, brushing back his hair from his forehead. "I will return in a few moments."

His apprentice disappeared from his side in a flurry of cream and jeweled skirts. Mithrandir always had run off to perform seemingly mad acts that he proclaimed to be helpful – whether or not that was true could be argued. Saruman said that Gandalf was half-mad, but the elves of the White Council believed that Gandalf was hardly anything but that. Chasing after an exiled heir was nothing new to Glorfindel. Whatever Gandalf did with the heir, had yet to reveal itself.

"My lord?" Coruwen's voice shook him out of his reverie. Cracking open his eyes, he found Coruwen kneeling before him with a porcelain cup cradled in her hands. She offered the cup to him, which he took. "It is a tincture that should ease the pain…"

Upon sipping the tincture, he nearly grimaced. It had smelled of lavender, but it tasted of earth and bitter herbs. Coruwen gave him an apologetic look and sat at his side.

"I have seen Mithrandir before, but I have never spoken with him," Coruwen stated, her fingers knitting together. His brow shot up at her words, but he kept quiet. "It was long before Kain and the Old Ranger left…"

"You must excuse Mithrandir and his tidings. He is pleasant to speak with when he is not a mission to hunt after exiled heirs," Glorfindel clarified and Coruwen giggled behind her hand. "He will return shortly from this endeavor."

Coruwen's smile was brighter than a star, "I hope to speak with him again." She hesitated a moment before pressing her hand against his cheek to force their gazes together. "Your eyes are not as clouded. That is a good sign."

He gave her a soft smile and then slid her hand off of his cheek. Sitting with her, he slowly eased the pressure that wrapped around his skull like a vice. When she finally left him, he watched the pink, gold, and indigo ribbons of the setting sun ripple through the sky. Gandalf left with the fading sunlight for wherever he ventured… Glorfindel hoped that Mithrandir would find the heir, or whatever he hunted for abroad.

* * *

_A/N: I'm not playing dead! I just got sick, a new computer, and a few other occupying things.. Anyway, I finally got this out to you all! Hopefully, I did all right writing Gandalf, since I typically am terrible with writing him or Galadriel. Thank you all for putting up with my short and unexpected hiatus. _

_If you want to join the tumblr family or ask questions or learn about my different stories - please come look me up under this penname on Tumblr! It'd be great to have you join us. :) _

_And if you liked this chapter, please favorite, follow, and leave me a review - it'd be great to hear from you! _

_Until next time, _

_-Angel _


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